Lydia was late
by WithoutHesitation
Summary: A dark and pleasant little what if... What if it wasn't Lydia who'd agreed to marry Beetlejuice to save the Maitland's, but her mother? What if, a generation later, Lydia finds his ring, and puts it on? Not a happy, fluffy story... Old grudges die hard.
1. Haunting the Wrong Girl

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

It was the same house, and yet it wasn't. Her house, the one she'd lived in all her life, but different. The hallway was there, familiar, but longer, stretching beyond sight, with faded lace hanging at every window. There were more doors than there should be, and as she tried them, one by one, each of them stubbornly refused to budge. All she could do was keep walking. Try the next door, and the next.

The light was fading fast, and with the darkness came an increased sense of urgency. A sense that either she wasn't alone, or that something was coming. Something she was certain she'd been running from for a very long time now.

At the next door, she pounded against the wood with the flat of her hand, stinging the palm, screaming for someone to answer. She couldn't be alone… Not with whatever it was coming after her!

Door after door, and her voice became raw with her desperate cries. The last of the sun faded, and she stared with wide eyes behind her, sagging against her most recent failure. Her heart pounded so violently that she felt it solidly in her throat, and she could hear blood echoing through her head like some sort of hollow drum.

Her fingers unconsciously clawed at the heavy wooden door behind her, leaving no mark. Her eyes remained fixed insanely on the nothing in the darkness, coming closer. Fear tasted like metal. This wasn't her house anymore, now it belonged to him…

With a metallic groan, the attack came not from before her, but behind, as the door suddenly eagerly gave way, sending her sprawling backwards. She hit the floor, hard, forcing all the air from her lungs with an audible gasp, leaving her lying there without breath, and a pain somewhere in her chest, frozen by shock and fear.

He slowly lowered to a smooth crouch, his feral grin fixed firmly in place, his eyes glinting with something like a touch of madness. He looked paler than she remembered, though she had no idea how she could remember him at all, as well as more gaunt, with a distinct aura of being fresh from the grave. The easy grace he held though, was as powerful as ever. And the man himself, she was suddenly certain, was stronger than the last time she'd seen him. Even though she'd never seen him before in her life.

While it couldn't be denied that he looked amused, the ghost before her also looked very, very angry. Putting the knuckles of one hand on the floor, he leaned forward until they were nearly nose to nose, more and more sharp teeth filling his ever expanding smile. She could only watch, her eyes growing as wide as possible, first fear, then confusion in their depths. She couldn't break his gaze. What was worse, was that in some way she didn't understand, she didn't even want to.

Then, just as the tension had reached the point where even the beating of her own heart brought pain, the stranger relented, drawing back with a chuckle. "What's wrong, babes?" His grin, if possible, grew even more devilish. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd seen a ghost!"

As the words left his lips, his features began to twist, his smile curling almost to his eyes, while a hiss that seemed straight from hell filled the room with his laughter. Then he stopped, flashing her a look that was both far more human, and utterly without mercy, as he whispered, "We've come for your daughter, Chuck…"

--

Lydia's scream echoed through the house, all the way from the Maitland's attic, down to her empty darkroom in the basement below. Not only did it wake every person in the house, living or dead, but it sent every one of them to her room, so quickly that some crashed into each other, and others went straight through each other.

Covered in sweat, black sheets clutched in either fist, Lydia couldn't for the life of her, convince herself that it was a dream. The metal taste was still on her tongue, fear and something like death, as her eyes stared vacantly above her, still trying to rip her mind from the nightmare. It was too real, and that, that creature…!

"Lydia, honey!" Barbara tried to untangle the girl from her binding sheets, which seemed in imminent danger of strangling her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

The girl's lips moved soundlessly, unable to convey the horror she'd just experienced. "G-g-g-ghost…" She breathed at last, just as if this made sense. Lydia Deetz after all, wasn't afraid of ghosts. Not only were her two best friends in the world ghosts, but they'd practically raised her, often more like her parents than her own flesh and blood.

But that ghost, that ghost was nothing like her gentle-natured friends…

"Ghosts?" Adam's throat bobbed a little, as he tried to force a laugh. "Now that's not fair Lydia, I know we're a little strict, but…"

"Ghosts." Her mother finished primly, rolling her eyes a little. "I can't believe that my daughter would be afraid of ghosts!" She seemed irritated, and at the same time, oddly triumphant, as if a great point had just been proven. What that point might have been, she left anyone to guess, leaving her daughter's room without another word.

Lydia felt a little like she'd been punched by her mother's dismissive words, and only a moment after that did Adam Maitland's words sink in. "Not you," She denied vehemently, still visibly shaken, "Some kind of…" and that's where she stopped of course. Because she couldn't describe him.

At last she just folded her hand over her face, barely aware of having sat up, and sort of crumpled. What was he? A monster…

Adam frowned, adjusting his glasses. "You were up all night, watching horror movies again." He scolded, hazarding a guess. An accurate guess. "They always give you nightmares… Aside from being horrific stereotypes." This last was added with just a slight lift of his eyebrows.

An uncomfortable pause followed this, before Barbara broke the silence gently, noting, "Her mother was the same way at her age Adam, remember…?"

After another long moment of looking disapproving to make his point, her husband nodded, not quite in agreement. "They didn't give her mother nightmares." He reminded her. Despite herself, Lydia flinched at his words, just a little. Neither of the two ghosts seemed to notice, having a deadlock at their rare difference of opinion. But Lydia was not her mother, and everyone there knew it. Nothing frightened that woman.

Lydia's father lingered in the doorway, even after his wife left, and his expression was one of unguarded sympathy. She turned her eyes to him in a silent plea for help, but his face merely turned an uncomfortable shade of red, and after a moment more, he left her to the Maitland's to figure out. He hadn't always been so hands off, but she could see the distance in his eyes before he left. He just did not understand his daughter anymore. And he made no effort to change that.

Wiping her face in exhaustion, the fear of her nightmare giving way to a waking that was little more welcome, she gazed glumly at the ring she'd found among a collection of old boxes. It had been wrapped up with a burned, tattered, god-awful red dress that had caught her eye. She loved the dress actually, but something about the ring had refused to let her leave it there. It felt warm against her finger, like a soft breath, or a whisper. A secret.

When she looked back up, Adam and Barbara were smiling at each other, in that sheepish love-struck manner that the couple still managed to maintain, after years of life and death together. At first she thought that they might have forgotten her, but then Barbara turned with her ever-sweet smile, and sat down next to her.

"Oh Lydia," She sighed, taking her hand, and stroking her dark hair, "I wish there was something we could do, but we can't protect you from nightmares." A pause, then with a glance at her spouse, "Adam's right. You need to stop watching those movies. This phase of yours has gone on long enough… You're just hurting yourself now." She didn't seem to notice Lydia's jaw drop at her words. "Even your mother knew when it was time to let it go…"

_But, I'm not my mother_… The words died, unspoken, before they ever reached Lydia's lips. Her mouth closed again, but her eyes shone with betrayal. How could they call this a phase? How could they just expect her to 'grow out of it'? She hugged the thick blanket to her chest, and looked at nothing at all.

It took the two a few minutes, but they finally realized that she had no answer for their unintentional cruelty. Deciding it would be best to give her time to consider their words, they each gave her a hug, and bid her goodnight.

And then she was alone.

--

After all this time, the damn little girl was wearing his ring. He felt the moment she slipped it on her hot little finger, knew as she twisted and played with it, and knew once, as she held it to her soft, perfect mouth. He sat in the old leather chair, staring at nothing at all, eyes dull and angry, lips tight… But he had shivered a little, when he felt that.

How long had it been? How long had he been waiting for her to remember him, to remember the debt she owed? How long had he been waiting to get out? He flashed a smile into the darkness, more a baring of teeth than anything, and licked his dark tongue across their points. Three days now, and she still hadn't called him. What was the ring to her now, a trinket, to remember her victory?

Sending her the dream had been a simple, if somewhat half-assed thing. He couldn't see her, couldn't touch her, but sure as anything she could see him. And she had not forgotten. He could smell the sweat of her, the fear… And something that hadn't been there before. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it didn't really matter. Bitch had probably changed her shampoo.

His long fingers turned the cigarette end over end in the blackness He'd been doing so for hours, the brilliant end never growing dark, the smoke pluming around him, utterly unnoticed. He hadn't paused to draw it in since he'd lit it. He was too engrossed in seeing what she'd do next, fresh from her dream.

She remained in bed, which surprised him a little. The girl he'd known would have run for some means of defense by now… _Sniveling behind those friggin Maitland's, _he sneered, finally flicking the cigarette away. _Like I'm going to let my guard down around those two again… And after all I did for them, too_.

It was a surprisingly long time before there was anything further, and when there was, it was just a few useless tears dripped onto the worn metal. Disgusted, he narrowed his eyes, and continued to observe. The ring slipped off, then rolled between the girl's fingers… She didn't throw it from her, despite being the link he needed to reach her. Probably hadn't figured it out yet.

After a moment though, she slipped the ring back on, and Beetlejuice went momentarily slack in shock. "Come on, babes," He muttered, "You're not stupid…" And there it was anyway, back on her smooth finger, sliding up under the cool linen of the pillow. The idiot was going back to sleep!

A grin played across his face for a moment, and he straightened one sleeve, ready to go right back to where they'd been only moments before… But just as his fingers readied to snap it into reality, the poltergeist paused, a sudden shiver of trepidation trickling down his spine. Something wasn't right about this. No way the girl he'd known couldn't figure this out…

"Some kind of trick then?" The words moved from his mouth slowly, before it drew up in his most charming, and dangerous grin. "You really want to play with me, babes? All right then." He leaned back again, his hand falling to his side. "Let's see if you've improved with age…" A loud, slightly mad roar echoed off the walls of his self-imposed cell, ending with a decidedly chilling laughter.

"Show me what you've got!"

--

The ring hung suspended on the thin leather cord, truthfully no more than a shoelace without a match, spinning and shining in the light of even the overcast day's sun. A twist, and it danced, holding her eye almost hypnotically, making her pink lips curve in a smile. A twist, and it glinted like gold… Even though she was fairly sure it wasn't. It hadn't turned her finger green yet, on the other hand…

She paid less attention than she should have to the sound of approaching footsteps, and a vaguely unnerving laughter. So caught by the simple display of light, her easy entertainment almost spelled her downfall as she realized, belatedly, that the footsteps had come to a stop before her.

Blond haired, blue eyed, and grinning like a cat with a bird in either hand, Claire greeted her with a snicker, and a roll of her hand, flicking her fingers in dismissal. "Ooh, where'd you find that, goth-girl? Digging through dumpsters again?" Dutifully her minions chortled, and Lydia was certain she felt her face color. "Well, it's not as if just anyone can pull garbage off… But if anyone can, I suppose it's you, Lydia Deetz!"

The ring faltered in its spin, and then Lydia forced herself to turn away from the girl, and put her attention back on its soothing shine. Garbage? She gave the leather shoelace another twist, and again the ring spun gold.

Before her, Claire found herself suddenly not the center of her victim's attention, and it infuriated her. What's more, what she had thought of as just a piece of junk, suddenly looked like it might be real gold… And she'd be damned if she'd admit it.

"Give me that!" Her arm shot out, and she grabbed the gleaming trinket from the other girl, her sneer suddenly curling up into a sickly sweet smile. "I was wrong, even you can't pull off garbage. Why don't I just throw that back away for you…"

Lydia was on her feet so quickly that she stood there, swaying for a second in unbalance, before she spoke. "Give it back to me." She whispered, her voice almost hoarse, both with the dread of losing the ring, and the distaste of standing up to Claire Brewster. When the poster girl smiled, seeing that she'd touched a nerve, Lydia's voice rose in something like panic. "Give it back to me now!"

She wasn't aware of starting forward, only reaching for the ring, and she certainly didn't mean to push the other girl in her attempt to get it, but in the next moment they were both falling, neither willing to surrender their grip on the prize. They fell side by side, thankfully, but Claire howled as if she'd somehow been grievously injured, yanking the cord hard enough to break, and striking out with her other hand.

There was a stinging warmth against Lydia's cheek, as four of the other girl's perfectly manicured nails left long red marks. Stunned, Lydia didn't move fast enough, and found the ring firmly in Claire's hand, a decidedly cruel smile curling her lips.

As her mouth opened to retort though, the blonde suddenly screeched instead, and dropped the slender ring as if it had burned her. It fell with a musical sound to the sidewalk, and Lydia never paused to question it, snatching it up and yanking away in one motion, quickly back on her feet.

Claire's face was now bright red, and her lips trembled with fury as she rose, like some puppet whose strings had all been jerked at once. "That piece of junk of yours _cut_ me!" She screamed, looking like she was ready to strike Lydia again for the slight. Lydia took a quick step back, noting at the same time that there wasn't so much as a drop of blood on the other's hand. How could a smooth metal band cut someone, anyway?

Ready to run, Lydia slipped the ring back on her finger, unwilling to risk losing it again. Claire started to advance, her group closing in around her…

Then, abruptly, Claire lifted her hand, stopping them, and smiled a gut-turning smile. "Miss Shannon doesn't allow jewelry in school," She snickered, as if in her mind she'd just scored some undeniable point, "She says it's _sinful_." Then she just laughed aloud, as if at some great joke, and her cronies chimed in, turning and leaving her there.

Lydia's heart pounded, and she lifted her hand to touch the marks she knew were on her face. Claire's nails had done their damage, and when she looked down at her skin, smears of blood shown brightly against the paleness. She closed her eyes, briefly, and trembled. She didn't want to go to school. There would be too many questions. Likewise if she went home.

She turned slowly, still shaking from her close call, and an anger that seemed to come too deeply to ever be real, and headed off towards the Winter River Bridge. She'd slide down the bank, stare at the water… No one would think to look for her there. A few hours' peace… It wasn't the first time, and god only knew that it probably wouldn't be the last…

--

Blood was the last thing he'd expected… No, check that, the confrontation with the other girl over his ring was the last thing he'd expected. At first he thought she'd actually been trying to give his ring away, but in the turmoil that followed, and especially the presence of blood, he realized that someone had tried to steal it. And amazingly, she'd fought to keep it.

And now her blood was on the ring he'd given her, making his bond with the wearer that much stronger. He didn't smirk though, or grin in triumph at this stronger hold. Instead he scowled into the shadows, drumming his fingers almost inaudibly against the aged arm of his chair. What the hell was this? What game did she think she was playing? She couldn't honestly be having second thoughts about having stabbed him in the back that way… And he was anything but ready to forgive and forget!

Yet when the other had tried to take his ring, he'd sent the tiniest shock through the band, more on impulse than anything. And the spiteful wench actually grabbed it back, and put it back on!

"Why?" It was a murmur, barely spoken, and he worked on the strengthened connection with a twist of his fingers. A sort of shimmering, a twisting of shadows… He still couldn't see her. Not clearly, anyway. A slight thing, long black hair, almost as pale as death… Anything more than this though, was lost on him. It irritated him, because with the new link he'd just forged, he should be able to see her perfectly.

He took a slow, unnecessary breath in, and let it out in a drawn out hiss. "I don't know what you're pulling here, babes," He warned softly, "But you're really starting to piss me off."

Rising, he turned his attention from the girl for a moment, and strode to the table nearby with long, even steps. It was covered in glass bottles, some of which looked like whiskey, some of which looked like they'd once held something toxic. Grabbing one indiscriminately, he wiped a layer of dust off the mouth, and took a deep swig. He barely tasted it, his mind elsewhere.

He was missing something. What? He bared his teeth in frustration. Driven to distraction by half grown mortal brats… It wasn't like he'd asked for so much. He just wanted out! "Quid pro quo…" He muttered to himself, reflecting briefly on the couple he'd saved from a fate worse than death, only to be fed by one of them to a sandworm.

Barbara… Oh no, he hadn't forgotten her…

An irritated yank smashed the nearly empty bottle against the far wall, and he turned back to his bride to be with a glare that could have killed, if looks could, and so on. Why couldn't he even see her face? He sneered at his own inability, and banished the image with a wave.

"Never trust the living," He muttered, stalking back to his chair angrily, "Just about the only shit you ever said that made sense, you old bat…"

He swore he wouldn't make that mistake again.

--

She snuck home just a little late, erring on the side of caution. Probably no one would call her parents. She just had to get in her room without being seen, and get some much needed sleep. She didn't understand herself was she was so tired…

"Lydia!" The girl tensed. She'd actually made it to her bedroom door, hand on the knob, when Barbara drifted innocently past her. For just an instant, Lydia closed her eyes, gathering strength. "You're home late… Did you go over a friend's house?"

_Friends?_ Lydia thought bitterly, _I have no friends…_ She just stood there like an idiot, for about a breath too long. She should have come up with a lie before she came home… "I'm really tired." She settled for at last. "I'm just going to go lay down for a while."

Though she didn't know how the ghost had done it, somehow Barbara saw something that bothered her, and turned the girl with the firm grip of a parent who knows something's wrong. When she saw the ugly marks, her hand flew up to her mouth, and her eyes widened. "Lydia, what happened to you? Were you in a fight?"

"A, dog. Stray." The words fell from her lips as if they had no meaning. "Just excited to have someone say hello, I guess. It was an accident." She wouldn't even blame some nonexistent stray for Claire's actions…

The woman's eyes passed over the wounds, and her lips pursed in doubt. Clearly the marks were wrong to have been left by a dog. More worried about the angry red the scratches had developed around them, she decided to ignore this for now, and led Lydia down the hall to the bathroom. By this point, the girl had given up resisting.

Barbara gathered the first aid kit from the linen closet, and then set down to cleaning Lydia's wounds. It surprised the girl how much this hurt, and she turned her face sharply away, angry again at the cruel blond girl.

"If you'd treated them right away, it wouldn't hurt so much." Her friend pointed out mercilessly, tugging her face back up to be tended. "Lydia, if you're having trouble at school…"

"It's fine." She didn't know herself why she didn't want to admit it. Just a sick feeling in her gut that getting her parents involved, any of them, would only make things worse. She didn't bother pretending it was a dog anymore though, and quietly, the lie lay between them, both knowing no one there believed it.

Unconsciously, Lydia started playing with her ring, her eyes fixed on the weathered band. If she twisted it just right, it still looked gold. A humorless smile touched her lips. Damned if she knew why, but she was glad she'd gotten it back. It was so warm now, it almost hummed against her finger…

When she realized, belatedly, that Barbara had stopped, she looked up, only mildly curious. Was that it then? But the ghost woman was staring at her now, at her hand, with a look of slowly growing terror that belonged on the face of no one already dead.

"Where did you get that ring?" She whispered.

--

Beetlejuice just about fell out of his chair laughing at the obvious fear in the ghost woman's voice. No, she hadn't forgotten him either… He grinned ear to ear, straightening his woolen jacket, and offered every tooth towards her oblivious image in front of him. Good thing he'd decided to check on the girl again…

His smile died though, as the woman's question finally settled to sense, and was followed quickly by a frown. "Where did she get the ring?" He muttered, put off ease by the question. "Like hell you don't know where she got the ring, Babs…" But something about this wasn't right. He could see Barbara Maitland clearly, but still couldn't focus on the girl.

The silence stretched between the two. For reasons only she knew, the kid didn't want to tell her what she should already know. "I found it." She said at last. Her voice sounded different than he remembered, and at the moment, sort of dreading. Like she'd done something wrong. Beetlejuice's eyes narrowed.

Barbara took a hissing breath in, and then fell on the girl like some sort of animal, wrenching and twisting to get the ring off. "No, no, no Babs…" He muttered under his breath, well aware that his grip was strong enough now to keep the ring from being removed. "Not this time!"

Struggling against her, the girl finally made a sound of pain, and the ghost woman froze, staring at her with horrified eyes. "It won't come off." She whispered, as if this possibility were only now occurring to her. "Olivia…" Beetlejuice sneered, hearing the girl's name, but it failed him completely at Barbara's next words. "I have to tell Olivia! I have to warn her!"

This time it was Beetlejuice's jaw that dropped. He'd been haunting the wrong girl? Some idiot had just picked up his ring, and… No, that wasn't right. Some idiot couldn't just pick up his ring, and put it on, and… And she smelled like her! He knew that smell like he knew his own!

_A little different_, a voice in the back of his mind niggled him, _But it's been a while, people change… Kids grow up…_

For about the length it took him to think this through, the girl was utterly silent, frozen in whatever it was that froze her, but then a gasp escaped from her, and she was grabbing the ghost's arm. "You can't tell mother!" She begged, making his jaw drop again. "She'll kill me for going through her things!"

The woman shot a helpless, terrified look at her. "Lydia," She said softly, "Your mother is the least of the things you have to be afraid of right now."

Lydia? Like Olivia, but different. He'd expected to hear it, so he'd heard it. He relaxed slowly in his chair, an entirely unpleasant grin growing on his face. "Lyyyydia…" He hissed, so pleased with himself that his heart would have swelled within him, if it could. "Oh yes, I think I'm going to have to get to know you very well, babes. Let's see what old mom thinks of that…"

--


	2. Not the Best Impression

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

In the end, she'd been given nothing but warnings with no explanation, all four of her parents hovering over her like some frail glass doll, and not telling her a damn thing about why they were so afraid. Glances exchanged, ominous shakes of their heads, and then bizarrely enough, the spoken decision not to tell her.

"He can't do a thing if she doesn't know…" Her mother noted, with what might have been a trace of grim satisfaction. "Let her wear the ring. The creep's sandworm bait. You saw to that." She gave Barbara a smile that made even the ghost woman look uneasy. "She doesn't know his name," Olivia went on slowly, as if to a simpleton, "He can't do anything about it." Lydia noticed that as her mother spoke this way, she was looking at her.

So the agreement had been reached, and Lydia felt betrayed. Not by her parents, no, they'd acted exactly as she'd expect any of them to act, but by the ring. It was warm. It was beautiful. And here it was… bad. Somehow.

Claire Brewster's voice drifted back to her, smug smile and all. _She says it's sinful_…

"Maybe I'm sinful." Lydia mused dully, twisting the ring again for the flash of gold. She had no problem moving it, until she tried to take it off. Then it stuck fast. As soon as she went back to simply twisting it though, it seemed content to let her do as she pleased.

It was a long time before she fell asleep, but this time, the scene that greeted her was far more familiar. The long hallway, the lace curtains… And this time one of the doors further down the hall was open. Lydia's fingers twitched, as an impulse told her to run the other way, remembering what was down there.

Then she remembered her mother, and how the older woman wasn't afraid of anything. There was a taste of something sour in her mouth, her jaw clenched, and despite the maddened screaming in her own mind, she started towards the door.

She hesitated only briefly as she reached it, and peered inside. There he was. Not quite the way she'd left him, for now he lounged lazily at what appeared to be a bar, twisting back and forth on a red leather stool, and shuffling between a collection of liquid filled bottles.

He lifted his head as she came in, gave her a wild grin, and waved her over. "There you are! I tell you Lyds, waiting for you to fall asleep is worse than sitting in that damn waiting room!" He swiveled on the stool, holding two bottles at eye height. "Come on now, what's your poison?" One bottle depicted a dead roach on the front, the other a more classic bright blue glass with a skull.

Lydia looked at the 'drinks' in his hands, then back up at him. Her eyes were dubious, and her mouth set in a worried moue, as she chewed her bottom lip. "You were different… before." She said slowly.

"Ack, that." He flashed her a disarming grin, and shrugged helplessly. "Case of mistaken identity, babes. Thought you were the bitch that… Well," He chuckled to himself, tilting his head, and glanced at her with his strange green eyes, "No use digging up the dead, know what I mean?"

"Um…" Actually, Lydia had a good idea what he meant. He was, she was somehow certain, referring to her mother. Her hand closed around the band of metal on her finger, and he paused, lifting an eyebrow, as if waiting to see if she'd try to take it off again. She didn't. "It's you," She said slowly, lifting her eyes to him again, "You're the one everyone's so scared of…"

He held up his hand, acting as if he was stopping her, but then waved her on, as if he'd interrupted a flow of compliments. "Thank you, thank you… Just doing my job babes, you know I love it. But seriously," He started rummaging among the bottles again, "Can you blame them? I mean, look at me." He paused, and flashed her a smile. "Am I scary or what?"

Lydia had no answer to this, and just continued staring at him, trying to digest the fact that this was a dream, and yet it wasn't, and somehow, she was wearing this guy's ring. His smile slowly died, and after a moment, he started to look cross. "So what?" He grumbled, "You've seen better?"

Again she had no answer to this, and decided to simply turn the other way, look away from him for a minute, and try to clear her head. Maybe she could wake up… He'd been scary the night before, sure, but if he was big and bad enough to scare other ghosts, she was sure that he hadn't even been trying.

"Hey babes," Out of nowhere, his arms jutted over her shoulders from behind, each one loosely dangling a bottle, the two almost crossing over her chest, "Seriously, where's the good stuff? This crap you've got in your head would kill even me."

Lydia couldn't breathe for a second, and then she screamed, doing her best to squirm out of his arms. He struggled with her for a minute, just long enough to let her know that if he didn't want her to, she wasn't going anywhere. Then he released her with a laugh, walked back over to the bar, and set both bottles down.

He turned to her then, eyes flashing, and feigned a shudder. "This place you know. Just brimming with teen angst. Really, I must congratulate the decorator."

Anger seared through her, along with confusion, something resembling disgust, and fear. "They said you couldn't do anything if I didn't call you." She whispered, knowing even as she said it that it was a useless plea.

He snorted indelicately. "Shows you how much you can believe them. Hey, but really babes," He held his hands out innocently, "Have I done anything wrong? Can't a guy stop by a pretty little thing's head for a _drink_?" His arm flashed out, and several containers fell to the floor, shattering as they spilled their contents. When the liquids ran together, they began to look disturbingly like blood.

Lydia took a step away, and the stranger's eyes flashed in amusement. "Talk about running from yourself." He muttered, watching as the fear seemed to grow on her face, as if she saw something truly terrible inside the bottles.

In the next minute, she truly was running, not from him, but from what she'd seen in her own dark 'poisons'. She didn't want to stop running, not ever, but she'd only run a few feet when he caught her from behind, twisted her, and held her in place easily, his breath a hiss in her ear. "Oh no babes, you're not going anywhere…" He laughed softly, "First, we discuss terms…"

--

She was trembling in his arms, which he had to admit, he enjoyed. She just felt so damn breakable… and figuring that the apple probably didn't fall far from the tree, he was tempted to do just this. She didn't try to pull away this time though, as apparently he'd made his point before, but her smell was thick with fear. He buried his face in her hair, and breathed deeply. Fear. Also cherries and almonds. It made him grin.

"So you're not going anywhere babes, right?" He asked softly, flaring his fingers against the vulnerable softness of her wrists. "We're just gonna talk…" He could press it further, but scaring her too much, while obviously it wouldn't be difficult, would make his plans later on far more so. He took in one more deep breath of her, figuring it had to last him awhile, and let her go.

Lydia turned so fast she almost fell, stumbling back, and stared at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. His grin grew, just a little. "What, do you want?" She whispered, clearly hoping that he'd answer with anything but, 'you.' Her throat bobbed as she swallowed repeatedly, but still, she didn't try to run. She just stared, her dark gaze thick with jumbling emotions. He couldn't begin to read them all.

"Same thing I've always wanted." He growled softly, advancing a step, before retreating again at the sudden warning in her face that she was still considering trying to run. "I want out, babes. Just hit me with those 'B' words, and I'm out of your pretty little head, and back in the real world."

"'B' words?" She echoed, looking confused, and still more than a little scared. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

He flicked this away as inconsequential. "My name, kid. You say it three times, I won't darken these halls a moment more." He fixed her with his most earnest look, but was unable to prevent a _slightly_ wicked grin from creeping across his face. "Come on, you know you want to…"

Something in her eyes flickered, becoming wary. "And you'll stay out of my dreams?" She pressed. Before he could assure her he would, she went on, asking, "And why do you want out there, anyway?"

Irritation ground up from his stomach, and his smile became a gritting of teeth. "Just a little R&R, babes." He assured her, truthfully enough. _Revenge and retribution_…

"No." She was taking a step back now, and looking at him with an odd sense of clarity, as if she knew exactly what he'd just been thinking. "You want to hurt my family…" Her lips were drawn tight, and something protective had fallen over her face. "Don't lie to me."

Beetlejuice gave up all attempts at civility, and fixed her with his most dangerous glare. "Right kid," He agreed smoothly, "No more lies. You think you weren't ready for what was behind that door?" He gestured the way they came, almost absently. "A few dusty bottles with some old childhood fears?"

He leaned closer to her, made sure, really sure, that she was looking in his eyes, and hissed, "I can open doors in your mind that you'll never be ready for, kid."

A hint of something hit in her features, drawing them a little, and he knew she believed him. He rocked back on his heels, satisfied, and chuckled, knocking her gently against the chin with two of his knuckles. "Now you just let me out babes, and…"

"I'm not afraid of you." Her words took him aback, and he paused, looking at her face, which was clearly very afraid. He frowned a little, and considered the lie between them, which she had to know he'd never buy. Not this little brat with her heart on her sleeve… He smiled to test it, and her eyes grew wider, and her face grew paler. Hell she wasn't scared of him.

"Is that right?" He asked softly. Her lips screwed up, and she choked down her answer, fixing him with what was obviously her most stubborn glare. Damn. The little masochist was going to let him break her to pieces if it meant defending the people she cared about. He hadn't counted on her calling his bluff.

He drew his hand over his mouth, and fixed her with an irritated scowl. He didn't really want to hurt the kid. She hadn't done a damn thing to him. And he kind of liked her fascination with his ring. Sure, he could twist her mind to pieces, sooner or later he'd get what he wanted… And then what?

All anyone had to do was say his name three more times, and he was trapped again. No, he needed a more permanent way out. And for that, he needed her to not be terrified out of her guts over him.

He made a show of looking down at his heavy jacket, dusting it off, and despite his best intention, looked like little more than a child who'd just had a cookie snatched away. "Damn Lyds, can't you take a joke?" He muttered, more to himself, than because he thought it meant a thing to her.

Her breath left her in a rush, and for a moment, he thought she'd fall straight to the ground. Instead she stood there, wavering, looking a bit more unsteady than before. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, and blinked several times, clearly trying not to pass out, then and there. He wondered idly where she thought she'd go, if she did. She was already unconscious…

"Don't do that to me," She whispered, the words very near begging. He'd have thought he'd enjoy hearing her beg, but instead it just made him shift uncomfortably. The words were just a little too heartfelt… She lifted bruised eyes to him, and he flinched. Dark lipid pools, framed by heavy lashes… He had so much trouble thinking clearly for a minute, that he nearly missed her next words. "I'm not letting you out."

It took a minute for the words to register, but even when they did, he was oddly no longer annoyed. Instead, he broke out in a slow smile, put his hands in his pockets, and appraised her like the rather fascinating game she offered. "All right then," He drawled, flashing his teeth in amusement, "I'll just make myself comfortable in here then. But sooner or later babes," His eyes glinted just a little, in what could have been warning, "One way or another, you will say my name."

Now it was her turn to flinch, and he couldn't help it, he laughed softly. This was going to prove an interesting game… Anything but dull. She eyed him warily, noting in a mumble probably more for her own sake than his, "You're nothing like the Maitland's…"

This time, he couldn't stop the laughter, no matter how crazy it sounded.

--

She'd woken far too early, and spent the dark hours of the morning plying herself with cup after cup of coffee. Though the whole house smelled like it by the time her parents finally woke, her father found the pot itself, oddly empty. Not saying a word, he just went to brewing another, not bringing the strangeness of it to her mother's attention.

Lydia flashed him a grateful look. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and felt like they were full of sand, both signs that she hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. The last of her coffee, far stronger than she liked it, and black, sloshed around the bottom of her cup, which she turned her attention back to a moment later, when it became clear he wouldn't return her gaze. It was pretty much just the dregs that were left now.

She tipped the cup up, and swallowed them anyway, making a face at the bitter grounds. If she managed to figure this whole thing out, she swore she'd never drink coffee again. Her hand fell reflexively onto the slim metal band as she grabbed her book bag, and without further glance at either parent, left with no more in her belly than hot caffeine. Which she was already beginning to regret, as her stomach twisted in protest.

The walk to school wasn't far, sure, she'd rather have ridden her bike, but it had suffered a mysterious accident the week before. Still chained in place, the spokes had the distinct look of someone having taken a bat to them. She hadn't even told her mother yet.

Fortunately it was a nice day. Unfortunately, it was also a bright day. She wished uselessly for a pair of sunglasses, as her eyes tried without effect to adjust to the brilliant sun on too little sleep. The air on the other hand, was crisp and cool around her, teasing a pleasant shiver from her spine. She liked fall days. She loved the smell of the leaves. Pity she couldn't think of anything but _him_…

She got to the school without incident this time, or so she thought. Almost seated in her chair before she realized the stares and whispers directed towards her, she belatedly lifted her hand, wishing she could cover the ugly marks that had sent everyone abuzz. And Claire, smiling, innocent, as if it wasn't her own hand that had left the mark? Damn her.

"Attention class." Miss Shannon stood at the front of the room, clearing her throat, not smiling. Lydia doubted she ever smiled. "Now allow me to take roll call, and we can get down to business, shall we?"

Claire Brewster's hand shot up in the air, her eyes bright with malice. "Miss Shannon…!" She sing-songed, smiling brightly. "Lydia's wearing a rinnnng. Isn't that like, against your policy?" She turned her smile to the girl in question, and it became something truly ugly to see. It wasn't just the ring she wanted everyone to notice, clearly, but her own handiwork.

Miss Shannon peered over her glasses, finally noticing Lydia's presence, as well as her injuries. Her eyes took them in at length, but mercifully, she said nothing about it, merely turning back to her papers. "Miss Deetz, remove the ring and bring it here." She instructed impassively. "You'll have it returned at the end of class."

Lydia stood up slowly, hand almost going for the ring, before she stopped herself. "It won't come off, Miss Shannon." She denied, as contained as possible. "It's stuck."

Now the teacher raised both eyebrows, and turned her attention back to the girl. She'd tried to let the child off easily, now she back-talked to her? "Miss Deetz, come up here at once." She summoned her firmly.

A look approaching both humiliation and defeat in her eyes, Lydia obeyed, and then, as the teacher demanded it, held out her hand. A moment of twisting the band later however, it was clear that Miss Shannon couldn't budge the ring either. If anything, this only served to make her more annoyed. "Go to the bathroom, and use the soap to slip it off…" She began, only to be interrupted by Lydia.

"I already tried that." She denied softly, lie though it was. The ring wasn't coming off, simple as that. She had no intention of explaining why. "It's stuck."

Miss Shannon gave her a long look, clearly weighing whether the girl was being disobedient or not, and finally came to her own solution. Bidding Lydia to wait, she disappeared into the back closet for a minute, before emerging triumphantly with a pair of heavy gray mittens. Lydia's heart sank.

"You will wear these for the course of the day," The teacher informed her student in a no-nonsense manner, "And when you come to school Monday, you will have removed that ring, if you have to cut it off!" Cut it off? Lydia wondered glumly if even that would work.

She slipped on the gloves obediently, much to the amusement of her classmates, and returned to her desk without a word. Her head hung a little, and she stared at her hands as if she hated them. They were already starting to feel sweaty, and worse, the gloves itched. And Claire Brewster couldn't stop smiling, she was sure.

_I hate them all_, she thought glumly, unconsciously moving to twist the ring, and finding her access blocked by the heavy material. Between her discomfort, her utter humiliation, and her lack of sleep, being at school at all today was clearly a waste. She wasn't going to learn a damn thing.

--

Bored by the hours of droning on by the old broad who'd humiliated the girl, Beetlejuice tuned out after a while, just kicking his feet up, and reflecting on what to do next. She wouldn't be able to stay away from him long, not as little sleep as she'd gotten the night before. He grinned, knowing that would break her faster than anything he could do.

Normally by noon, he would have already turned to either rum or whiskey, depending on his mood, to help the day pass more easily. Today he stayed sober. He wanted to be on the top of his game when he faced Lyds again. But it made time pass insufferably…

He finally just fell asleep, head tilted to the side, dreaming his dreamless dreams. It was only after he awoke that he realized how long he'd been out for, looking uselessly for a clock he didn't own. Stretching his hand out, he summoned her image again, certain now that she had to be out of class, and ready for some sleep…

Aware of her hand, oddly. She was reaching out and drawing it across something, much as he had done only a moment before. And finally, finally, her image snapped into focus for him.

_What the hell?_ A mirror, maybe? She was still obscured by billows of steam, she must be trying to look at her own reflection. When the ring had touched the glass, for at least a moment, he could see what she saw.

And it was even as he was realizing this that he realized she wasn't wearing anything, and almost fell out of his chair. Grinning, he found himself reaching out, trying to wipe the steam away himself, and stared in fascination at the lithe, perfect thing, Flawless breasts, smooth shoulders, tapering down to a soft belly… And then of course, this was where her reflection ended, damn it.

His eyes lingered, wondering what might be just out of sight, before they were drawn almost unwillingly back to her face, as she sighed aloud. It was a small sound, but filled with pain, and made his hands clench a little. She was looking at her own eyes, which were clearly exhausted, but this wasn't what drew his attention.

Four ugly marks crossed her face, doubtless due to the confrontation the day before, and to his surprise, he felt himself growing angry. Damn that bitch, Lyds was his to bend and break, no one else's! Her hand reached up to touch the angry wounds, and he swore he felt a phantom of her pain. He knew, with a clarity that surprised him, that she thought she looked ugly.

"Damn it…" He hissed, well aware that she was anything but. Now even with the delightful views on display before him, he couldn't look away from the pain in her eyes, the trace of fear in the tremble of her lips, and the awareness that at least one of these was because of him. He shifted, uneasy, and did something he didn't understand himself. He banished the image.

--

She didn't sleep. After a while, she didn't even dare rest on her bed, for fear of being overwhelmed by her exhaustion, and took to pacing the house silently. Again and again, she was drawn back to the mirror in the bathroom. She didn't know why. Maybe just to see that it wasn't a dream. Every time she looked, it seemed her face was a little paler. The bags around her eyes a little heavier.

Splashing water on her face was useless, but she did it again, anyway. Using the now damp towel to grind the grit from her eyes, she stifled a yawn, lifted her head with what strength she had left, and stared at her own image. Her thumb methodically toyed with the ring she couldn't remove, and she pursed her lips, trying to figure out how much longer she'd be able to keep this up.

In truth though, she didn't even want to keep this up now. A monster in her dreams seemed a small price to pay for a little rest… She dragged at the corner of her mouth with her fingertips, and gave it up as a lost fight. Too little sleep, too much caffeine, too big a crash.

She half stumbled back down the way to her bedroom, and collapsed across the thick spread over her mattress with a muffled 'whumph!' Her fingers curled into the soft material, and she blocked out even any hint of light without with a squeeze of her eyes, and a stubborn burying of her face in her dusty smelling pillow. "So give me your worst…" She grunted, regretting it immediately, far too late to take back the words.

Far too late to even have a second chance to deny her own decision to sleep, as with a rush of colors and lights, the first and only dream of that night swept up to claim her.

It was a little disconcerting, because at first glance, she hadn't moved at all, other than the unmistakable sense of falling. When she opened her eyes, she was still in her room, no longer tired, with no sign of the sun yet on the horizon. Feeling distinctly vulnerable, she drew the heavy blanket around her, like a child trying to keep out the boogeyman, and narrowed her eyes in the darkness. Was she alone?

A single light suddenly flared to life, like a flame, and her eyes focused on it so fast that it left her dizzy. Him, sitting against the far room of her wall. Lighting a match. Shaking it out, leaving her in darkness, with just a red glowing ember to tell her he was still there. A low, slightly strained chuckle, and a wave of the glow of red. "You don't mind, right?"

Three emotions swept over Lydia, first an odd feeling of detachment, as if this really were just a dream, and she were watching it from some distance away. Then fear, as she remembered the identity of the creature in the room with her, what little she knew of it, and the undeniable fact that he was dangerous.

And finally, as he made no more move than this, and she could see his faint silhouette in the darkness, something new. Curiosity. "Are we still, in my mind?" She asked slowly, not certain she wanted to hear the answer.

The sound of a long draw of smoke, a twist of the bit of red, and dryly, "Did you let me out, babes?" She shook her head slowly, not sure he'd be able to see, but not trusting herself to speak again yet. A pause, before he sighed, muttered something under his breath, and then offered more loudly, but little more clearly, "Then I guess we're still in your head, aren't we?"

Silence followed this, and it was the weighted kind, of things left unsaid. She tried to ignore it, but thirty seconds of the tension between them was about all she could take. "Are you… all right?" She asked warily, not sure why it would matter either way, but unable to shake the feeling that something bad had happened.

A long pause, and then the bright ember went out with a soft hiss. "What do you care?" He asked coldly. Without the small source of light, his presence in the darkness somehow seemed even more menacing.

About to say she didn't, Lydia choked it off, hesitated for a breath or two, then answered softly, "I don't know." She shifted in her bed a little, hoping he was still where she thought he'd been. Without the glowing cigarette, it seemed as if her eyes were more willing to play tricks on her. Like he could be anywhere. "Can I turn on a light?"

A low hiss, and what she somehow felt was a smile to follow it, though she couldn't see anything. "Your mind, babes." He reminded her matter-of-factly. He offered nothing more than this.

Carefully Lydia got to her feet, doing her best to remember exactly where the light-switch was, and still having to fumble around helplessly to find it. At any moment, she expected his breath in her ear, or his hands on her arms, but when she finally flooded the room in the comforting pale glow, he was exactly where she'd thought him last.

One knee drawn up as he lounged carelessly against the wall, he watched her with predatory eyes, somehow more direct and dangerous than before. He had a little half smile on his face, but it was humorless, as if whatever joke had been played was on him, and he was even now readying to get even. His hands were sprawled carelessly across his lap, playing out a silent drumming beat on his reclining leg. And he watched her, silently. Angrily.

Lydia decided that the last thing she wanted to do was go back to her bed, so she stood there uselessly, by the far end of the room, right beside a door that she didn't for a second see as a means of escape. "You look like hell." She said at last, not meaning the coarse way the words came out. She immediately winced, wishing again that she could take them back.

He didn't retaliate, just watching her. His lips twitched perhaps, just a bit. "Hell hath no fury…" He muttered to himself, drawing his hand through his hair. It was wilder than before, and the green of his eyes, just a glint darker. He considered her for a long moment with that same look, up and down, before she realized what it was. He was undressing her with his eyes! That was lust in the dark smoky green of his gaze…

Fumbling, Lydia grabbed for her blanket, as if she suddenly were naked before him, and drew the formless shape of it around herself, trying uselessly to hide. The look in his eyes didn't change for a second. "Stop it!" She demanded, trying not to sound like a frightened child with no power here. This was her mind… Her dream!

He chuckled, still humorlessly, and as she watched in horror, moved steadily to his feet. "So what's it gonna be, babes?" He asked softly, silkily. "You gonna let me out, or I gotta watch you from behind mirrors for the rest of your life?"

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Lydia turned bright red, from her ears to her toes. Her mouth opened to say something, but faltered as his eyes immediately fixed on her lips, no less fascination in his gaze. Instead she just sort of, wilted, and watched him in disgust. He could see her through the mirror. The mirror she'd stood in front of _naked_ that very day.

"Bastard." She whispered at last. It was really all there was to offer, both of them there knew exactly how she felt about it.

He made a little sound, noncommittal, and continued drawing closer, until he could have reached out and grabbed her. Trapped in a dream with him, there was really nowhere she could go. He looked down at her, a few inches in height at most, his gaze still smoldering with what still looked decidedly like both lust, and anger. "So what's it gonna be, Lyds?" He asked softly.

"Damn you…" She whispered, starting to tremble, but this just made his smile a shade more genuine, before he turned, and walked across to her bed, sitting unapologetically on its edge.

"Yeah well, you're not the first." He agreed, never taking his gaze off her. "You're gonna have to wait in line for that one. And it's a long line. Come on, over here." He patted the mattress beside him, like he really expected her to accept his offer. She stared incredulously, and didn't move an inch.

"Suit yourself," He said again, moving so that he was now reclining across her bed, _her _bed, with his head rested securely on her pillow, "Guess you're going to be standing there for a while then, because this dream ain't ending anytime soon. You've seen to that, with your little, 'I'm not going to sleep,' tantrum."

Tantrum? Her face flushed again, this time in anger. How could he look at her with that kind of desire one minute, and then dismiss her like some half-grown child the next? "Bastard…" She whispered again. He was right. This was going to be a long night.

--


	3. No Other Choice

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

It felt as if she'd gotten no sleep at all, her eyes still crusty and strained when she opened them many hours later. The glare of green from her clock told her otherwise, reminding her accusingly of the late hour. Her mouth felt tacky, like she'd been sick, and she rolled to a sitting position slowly, somehow expecting to be nauseous. She wasn't.

Gripped with a very strong need to both brush her teeth, and forget the long night before, she threw off her blanket and headed straight to the bathroom. Her hands trembled at the simple task of readying her toothbrush, and she scrubbed at her teeth almost violently, as if trying to scrape away the memory of a kiss that hadn't even happened.

She was rinsing her toothbrush for the third time, ready to reach for the toothpaste yet again, when she froze, suddenly remembering the mirror. The mirror he could see her through. She lifted her eyes slowly, dental hygiene forgotten, and met her own gaze in the flat, lifeless surface. Much as she'd told her stalker the night before, she looked like hell.

Lydia swore for an instant that tears pricked at her eyes, but for the life of her, they wouldn't fall. "Just leave me alone…" She whispered weakly, trying not to think of it as begging. He'd probably love hearing her beg. "Please, leave me alone…"

She could take no more than this, turning sharply from the mirror, and fleeing the bathroom, unwilling to let him hold her for a moment more. She didn't know where she was going, but by instinct or learned habit, she was halfway to the attic before she even drew her next breath. _Barbara… Adam… Help me…_

As she reached for the knob though, she suddenly became aware of the fact that a meeting was already taking place in the attic, and the point of discussion seemed to be… her. "Let her sleep a little longer," Barbara was pleading softly, for her foster daughter's sake, "She was up all night wandering through the house. God only knows what kind of dreams she's having…"

Curious, and with a distinct feeling that this was the only way she was actually going to learn what was going on, Lydia knelt slowly by the door, opening it just far enough to peek through the crack. All four of her 'parents' were there, though her father sat to one side, paying little attention to any of it. He seemed somehow out of place, as if unlike the rest of them, he really had no right to even be there.

Gazing emptily at his hands, Lydia watched as he spun his wedding band around his finger. She wondered if that was where she'd learned it from. He really looked like he'd rather be anyplace else…

"Dreams," Her mother sneered, drawing her attention back to those actually talking, "Are not our biggest concern here. We don't even know they're about him… There's no way he's still alive. Dead. Whatever." She took a sharp turn at the end of the attic, where she'd been pacing back and forth with quick steps to vent her frustration, and looked upwards, as if at some unseen watcher. "Fucking asshole. You hear that, Beetlejuice?" Her voice rose in fury at the odd name, "You're a fucking asshole!"

At the mention of the word 'Beetlejuice,' Lydia was certain she felt a cool finger reach out, and run down the back of her neck teasingly. She could almost hear him say, _That's one… _It made her stomach twist, even as no one else seemed to notice the change. His name. The way to call him out, the 'B' word…

Beetlejuice.

"Liv!" Adam voice was uncharacteristically short, angry even, as he rose from the place where he'd been cutting foam, trying vainly not to panic, only to hear _that_ name uttered again, after so many years. "Don't say that name!"

Olivia spun on him with blazing eyes, her mouth opening to retort, when Barbara interrupted, as gently as she could. "Calling him back here to answer for his crimes, isn't going to make things better." She pointed out softly, lowering her hands a little, as if she could lower the tension in the room the same way. "Don't forget, you're not the one wearing his ring this time." A slight pause, then with a distinct sense of dread, she whispered, "Next time, he'll come for Lydia."

This had the immediate effect of silencing everyone in the room, and even her father was paying attention again. His eyebrows were swept together in something like worry, and he started to say something… Only whatever it was died on his lips, as he turned back fixedly to his ring, spinning it more urgently than before.

It was of course Lydia's mother that broke the silence, sounding more weary than she could ever remember the woman revealing. "He wants out," She said quietly, as if this were somehow an admission of agreeing, "He's always wanted out. There's no way that's changed… Unless he really is…" But this time she didn't finish it. Apparently, not even she really believed he was gone.

Another pause, and then it was Adam's turn. "We could ask Juno," He said slowly, as if still thinking this through, "But that could take months. If he comes while we're gone…"

Olivia shook her head, shuddering, and dismissed this possibility with an uneasy wave of her hand. "No. No, you're better here. If it weren't for you two, last time…" This was a side of her mother Lydia had never seen before. Vulnerable. Scared. She swallowed hard, and said it again. "You need to stay."

This might have been the end of the conversation, but for the fact that for the first time, her father spoke up. "We need to tell Lydia…" He noted quietly, again as if he wouldn't have the right to speak on this at all, if she weren't his daughter. Rather than anyone agreeing with him though, a very grim silence followed. No one wanted to admit he was right. Each maybe, for their own reasons.

Lydia got to her feet quietly, and slipped back down the stairs, suddenly not eager for any long talk they might decide to have with her. She couldn't think about this anymore right now, it was all she'd been thinking about for days. She just needed some time to breathe.

She had to get out of there…

--

The clouds were starting to build, and the air had taken a decided chill. Lydia found herself looking to the sky more than once, debating the wisdom of returning home. Each time though, the thought of her father oddly enough, sitting alone and spinning his ring, made her keep going. She didn't even know where she was going anymore. She'd long since left most of the familiar landmarks of her home town behind her.

Pity she hadn't dressed for the weather, or she might actually be enjoying it. The first frosts had settled on the fallen leaves, making a pleasant crunch-crunching sound under her slow strides, letting her think of nothing at all. The breeze rose ticklings of gooseflesh on her arms, and the cool air quickly swept away any sweat before it had the chance to form. This being said though, rain, in such weather, wouldn't be pleasant. She needed to turn back.

She did pause in fact, at the first of the signs that marked the approach of the stone quarry. This after all, if nothing else, told her she'd gone too far. One foot hung in midair, swaying a little bit as she considered her return to the house, and the unwanted lectures that would follow it. She was almost to the quarry anyway. And maybe there'd be someplace to get out of the rain.

It was a stupid excuse, and she didn't believe it herself, but Lydia's feet obeyed the lie her brain had spun, and so she kept going. The tall gates were locked of course, and her limbs were in no position to be climbing fences, already going stiff with cold, but fortunately the chain was loose enough for someone slender of build to slip through. She was actually somewhat surprised she managed to.

Once inside, she strode almost to the edge of the deep rock pit, still used to this day to mine quartz, for whatever reason people mined quartz. It was bigger than she'd expected, stretching out for thousands of yards before her, and for a moment she felt a distinct queasiness. She wondered what this place had looked like before someone decided to put a giant pit in it… And then stepped back, as she caught her first good glimpse of just how deep it was, too.

This place felt, ugly. She shook her head, and started to go back, when she heard the unmistakable sounds of laughter. Familiar laughter, but she couldn't quite place it. She licked her lips, cast a glance at the sky, and wondered again if there were somewhere nearby to get out of the rain. By this point, there was no way she'd make it home, and the temperature was still steadily dropping.

"Damn it…" She whispered, hunching her shoulders, and heading towards the low murmur of voices. She didn't see any structures, but no one else could possibly be stupid enough to be out here in weather like this, without some sort of shelter… She took comfort in the laugh being familiar, and used this as the excuse to venture into a situation she'd normally avoid.

Unfortunately, she recognized the source of the familiarity too late, and found herself staring dumbly at Claire Brewster, heaving empty bottles down into the pit. Every time one shattered, she'd laugh in that awful, if familiar laugh. From the way she was swaying, she looked drunk. Certainly the group of friends with her, male and female alike, weren't the only ones taking long pulls of beer.

Hell if she hadn't stepped out of one bad situation, into an even worse one. Lydia took a wary step back, ready to turn and sneak back off before anyone saw her… Just short of soon enough. "Claire!" Came a high, giggly voice. "Look who's come to join the party!"

Lydia serious thought about running, but the footing was so rough with loose stones here, she was afraid that if she tried to bolt, she'd fall and break something. Instead she turned back, scared, panicking even, but determined not to show fear. One never showed fear to a pack of wild dogs.

It might have been strange, the boys hanging back to watch in amusement, as Claire turned with a wide smile, and began leading her loyal followers into what looked like a half circle, straight towards her. _Like wolves_, Lydia thought, shaken, _They're trying to cut me off_!

She was walking backwards now, not daring to take her eyes off of any of them, even if it made her precarious footing even more unsure. There was a really bad sense to the smiles on the girls' faces, and the low nervous laughs. She turned over trying to run again, and again only came to a bad conclusion, especially as the storm finally broke, and rain began to fall in heavy sheets. What had been loose stone, was quickly mud and loose stone.

A few of the girls shrieked at the sudden downpour, but even this seemed maniacal, and not one ran for shelter. Instead they continued closing in, and Lydia continued backing away. It was all very, methodical. No one made a move faster than anyone else. But this wasn't going to get her away. And the ground was just going to become more and more treacherous.

Her decision made in a split second, Lydia spun on her heel and bolted, followed instantly by every girl on her heels. They laughed in a way that didn't seem entirely human, even more when her ankle almost went out from under her, and a cry of pain escaped her lips.

Recovering faster than she would have thought she could, Lydia had the gates in sight… When she realized that the guys in Claire's little pack had been using her slow dance with the girls to get around in front of her, and cut her off. For a breath, as she came to a halt, she just stared, her mind refusing to work. She couldn't be trapped. She couldn't.

Claire approached her from behind, now at a more sedate pace, and Lydia turned to face her, never mistaking for a moment who called the shots. The smile on the girl's face seemed more unhinged than anything she'd seen yet on her ghostly stalker. She was going to make certain that Lydia regretted today for a very long time.

Trying to back away from all of them, she suddenly realized her mistake, as abruptly there was nowhere left to back to. She was at the edge of the pit. Being circled in. For one, giddy moment, she considered jumping, and taking her chance on the sharp stones below. Anything had to be better than seeing what Claire had in mind for her.

But she didn't, and after a moment, Claire stopped, just a few steps away, a smug look of triumph on her face. "Looks like you're in the wrong place, goth-girl." She purred. Her pack, there was no other way to describe them, were closing in, eyeing her hungrily, making certain there was no chance she could get away. "You want to maybe be real nice? Make friends?"

Not fooled, Lydia didn't say a word. The wind, no longer pleasant, drove through her almost violently. She couldn't stop shaking, from fear, from cold, from the sudden realization that nightmares at least, could be woken up from.

"I know…" The blonde girl went on, showing all her teeth in an expression not quite a smile, "Why don't you give me that pretty little ring?"

Lydia's hand went to cover the slender band, almost protectively. "I-it's stuck." She stuttered, wondering madly if, even if she could get it off, she'd willingly give the thing to her. "Remember, mittens?" She held out her hands to her sides, trying vainly to smile.

Claire effort to smile was not in vain. "You," She jerked her head in the direction of one of the guys, someone Lydia didn't know, "Help her off with it."

He smiled, and drew a knife from his pocket, skilled fingers easily swinging it open. "Anything for you, baby." He assured her, stepping forward from the group. Instantly they swarmed around her, hands grabbing, pinching, laughter ringing in her ears. Someone grabbed her arm, yanking out the hand with the ring, and Lydia saw the knife move closer with sickening certainty that this was not a joke.

Just as it sliced the skin above her knuckle though, blood spilling forth in a hot rush, someone misstepped, and Lydia felt a solid blow against her shoulder. Though she'd been screaming before, she stopped now, caught in an odd moment of surrealness as the ground went out from under her, and she began falling. And didn't stop.

Every hand there let go, rather than follow her into her freefall, though together they could have easily saved her. It was an almost eerie sensation, looking up at the surprised faces moving rapidly away from her… And then she hit the stone wall, hard, rolled, and her head was too filled with pain to think of anything else but the sudden sharp stop that was coming from below.

Again, again, the wall caught her, unmercifully tearing and bruising her flesh, but though she didn't know it, mercifully slowing her fall. Her hands tried desperately to catch a handhold, even after her mind no longer worked well enough to tell them to… But it was all quite pointless.

The ground hit her, hard. And for at least a moment of blessed peace, everything went black.

--

There was, pain. Nothing else. No, strike that, there was pain, and there was cold. But one was very nearly the other anyway, so what did it matter?

When she first opened her eyes, Lydia couldn't see anything, and thought for one horrible instant that she'd gone blind. She had no trouble remembering where she was, or what happened… Less even, with the icy rain puddling around her, further hiding sharp stones and shards of glass, as she feebly tried to rise to her arms. Vision returned, slowly, but it was still dark. Very dark. Night then?

They'd left her to die. It was a numbing realization, as she clumsily gathered her feet beneath her, and tried to stand. But of course they had. Claire, the rest of them… They could go to prison for what they'd done to her. They weren't about to admit their guilt, even to save her life. The rain would wash away any evidence that they had anything to do with it…

"Cold-blooded bitch." Lydia whispered, her teeth chattering. Amazingly enough, her injuries themselves didn't seem as severe as she would have expected, falling off a cliff. Scrapes, bumps, bruises… So far though, no broken bones. Her head hurt like hell…

The real danger, she quickly realized, came from the cold. She was soaked to the skin, and chilled in a way she wouldn't have thought someone could be, and still be alive. Every movement was a conscious, struggling effort, and she looked around desperately, looking for some place to get out of the rain. Nothing, sheer cliffs, wet stone… Nothing.

"Help?" It was a little sound, and she repeated it, but despite her best efforts, the second cry was no louder. "Please, help me!" No one would hear that. No one would save her. There was no shelter down here… No way to save herself. Could she climb the cliff?

She looked up at the sheer wall before her, and unhappily put both hands against it. Would her body even work to climb that far? _No,_ her reason told her matter-of-factly, oddly calm about the whole thing, _you're going to die down here_.

A lump rose in her throat, and her thoughts went unerringly to Adam and Barbara. They'd died. She'd never asked them what it felt like, because it seemed rude. Now, not knowing, made the prospect of her coming end even worse. Would she be a ghost too? Would she go back to that house to exist with them, trapped behind those walls for who only knew how long? Watching her parents cry?

Her hand found an uneven place in the stone, and she trying, valiantly, to lift herself. Almost immediately though, it came loose under her hand, and she tumbled back to the dirt, harder than she would have expected after her previous fall. It was only a couple of feet after all…

She gritted her teeth, and stared miserably at the rock. The rain blurring her vision, along with what might have been tears, though just as cold, she could only swear it was losing shape before her.

No, wait… Not losing shape, changing shape! She wiped her eyes quickly, shocked and confused, to see words inscribing themselves in fluid letters, formed of water, across the face of the stone.

_Let me out_.

The world seemed to stop, and Lydia found herself shaking her head, denying what, she didn't know. Let him out? Why, so he could save her? So he could kill her? So he could sit there with that maddening, amused expression, and watch her die? "No…" She muttered, falling backwards, and crawling on her palms away from the unspoken offer. "No, go away…"

A sense of mud, flowing around her fingers, where before there had been only rain and muck. She looked down. Clear water formed letters through the mud. _If I go, you'll die_. She shook her head, again. She tried to get to her feet, and found to her horror that she simply no longer had enough control over her body to do so.

Falling on her hands and knees, inches from the mud, this time she saw the words being traced, as if by an invisible finger. _Say my name_…

And that was it, wasn't it? He was the only one who could save her. Never mind if he would, there was no one else. If she didn't do something, now, she was going to die. For a moment though, even with her decision made, her body didn't seem to want to obey. Her jaw ached too much to move, her tongue was thick and swollen in her throat, and the name itself, barely a whisper. "Beetlejuice…"

Again, the sense of a finger down the back of her neck, and that soft whisper, _That's one…_

"Beetlejuice…" She said again, feeling even her arms fail her, as she slowly laid down into the mud. Her mind felt hazy now, she no longer felt so cold. Why had she been about to let him out again? She honestly couldn't remember, and tried to shake her head, succeeding only in splashing herself in the face. That was no good.

Maybe… Maybe he could help her. She didn't know where the thought came from, but she lifted her head, a moment of sense reminding her that she indeed needed help. The name slipped past her lips the third time like a sigh, oddly tender.

"Beetlejuice…"

--

He stepped from the shadows smoothly, without hesitation, as if he'd actually been there all along, and simply chose now to come forward. He looked down at her covered in mud, royally pissed. Pissed because this was what it had taken for her to call him, and pissed because it seemed their little game was now resolved, without any clear victory on his part.

And then, as she managed to open her eyes, and amazingly, recognized him, her gaze going into what could only be read as, _Please, don't hurt me…_ Really, really pissed at the girl that had thrown her over the side of the pit to be broken, like a porcelain doll she no longer wanted to play with.

This being said, he was almost surprised when Lydia's first words of greeting, on seeing him, were "Help me?" Little more than a breath, yes, decidedly scared, and rather doubtful that he would, she made the effort anyway.

Beetlejuice looked down at her with a scowl, rain cascading down his own face without pause, though it offered him none of the danger it did her. Save her. That's what he'd agreed to do, wasn't it? He got down on one knee, leaning forward into the mud, and took her chin gently in his hand. "A trade." He hissed softly, well aware that she was in no position to protest.

She clearly had trouble speaking, but then, so softly he might think he hadn't heard right, she whispered, "What?" Not quite 'what do you want,' but it was a start.

The poltergeist bared his teeth at her, more a gesture of impatience than a smile. "I. want. out." He explained matter-of-factly. "For good this time." He watched as her eyes struggled with this, but clearly didn't understand. A moment later though, she nodded. At least it might have been a nod. He took it that it was, and moved to lift her into his arms.

She cried out as he pulled her body from the mud, a muffled sort of sob, and it set him back for a minute. 'Am I hurting you, babes?' The words almost left his tongue, but then he grimaced, stopping himself. Of course he was hurting her. The kid was one massive black and blue mark. He spared a moment to be grateful that he could no longer feel pain so intense, and started moving, taking her up the side of the pit with long, easy strides. Not a pebble was disturbed under his feet.

"Please…" He became aware of her whispering, turning her face into his coat, her hands grasping the heavy, wet material.

"Yeah, yeah," He muttered, well aware what she was still trying to say, "Please don't hurt you… I heard you already." He knew that his body, such as it was, retained very little heat, and couldn't actually warm her. Fortunately, he was a ghost of no small means, and the distance that had taken her the better part of the day to cover, he managed to cross in less time than it normally took her to walk to school.

The house was dark, save for a light in the front hall. No doubt the Maitland's waiting up protectively for her to come home. Her parents were probably out looking for her even now. He entered through her bedroom instead, ignoring the dead couple who had no real business in this anyway, and then stood there, not really sure what to do next. She was cold, so cold…

_Water_, he decided abruptly, leaving the room, the girl still in his arms. He was almost in the bathroom by the time the plan fully took seed. He didn't undress her, less for the sake of her modesty than because he was afraid she'd snap in two if he tried, but just turned the shower on, the stream moderately warm, and stepped into the tub with her in his arms.

She moaned as the gentle jets hit her, flinching away at first, then turning her face up to the water, like a flower welcoming the sun. She seemed to have completely lost consciousness by this point, but from her reaction, she was just cold, not actually frozen. Otherwise it would have hurt like hell.

He knew he didn't have long before the ghostly bothers checked on the sound of running water, so he nudged the stream a little warmer, and waited impatiently as she slowly went deliciously limp in his arms. A thought, a twist of his arm, and she was covered head to toe in towels, squeezing away the wetness, trying to bind some semblance of heat back into her chilled body.

After this, the best he could do for her was let her rest. He took her back into the bedroom, and rested her across the covers, before drawing them up on either side and over her head, like a newborn. Only then did he sit back, with any sense that he'd done enough, and watch her.

After only a few minutes, she started to shake. She hadn't been shaking at all any more by the time he'd taken her into his arms, so he counted it as a good sign. Her body was trying to warm itself up again. He came back to the side of her bed, laying his fingertips gently against her face, and was pleased to see her flushed vaguely pink, as blood returned to her dying flesh.

"There ya go, babes." He muttered, leaning down, and brushing his lips lightly against her forehead. His stomach seized as her eyelashes fluttered, as if she might wake from her dangerous rest, and call him on the daring act… But she didn't. She just lay there, shaking. Broken. It made his hands tremble again with surprising anger.

"You get some sleep, Lyds." He ordered her sternly, as if she had any real choice to disobey. "I've got something that needs doing."

--

This had been the absolute worst night of Claire Brewster's life. Even the stuff one of the guys gave her to calm down didn't help, if anything, it seemed to make her feel worse. She was still shaking from the memory of that freak falling, a look of absolute dumbfoundment on her face, as if this couldn't possibly be happening to her. Like she expected someone to save her. Claire snorted, _not likely_.

And now she was down in that pit, dead sure as hell, and if anyone found out that she'd been down there when it happened… Little bitch. Claire's hand shook as she held the twisted papers to her lips, and sucked in shakily. Little bitch. She shouldn't have been down there at all. This was her fault!

She was in the process of pacing across her front porch again, when she froze, seeing something moving before her in the darkness. Her hand quickly twisted behind her, pressing out her little relaxation helper, as she stared forward into the darkness with a glare.

"Who's there?" She demanded, not liking being caught off guard. As if being found with a blunt was the worst thing that could happen to her that night.

"Claire?" It was an odd, detached sort of sound, and unnervingly familiar. The little goth freak? She shuddered, and took a step back. No, no that wasn't possible, was it? She was dead. "Claire, what's happened to me? Where am I? Why is it so… dark?"

The blonde girl's face paled, and her lips trembled, as something shapeless and white moved forward from the shadows. Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! No friggin way!

"Claire? Help me… It's so cold…"

"Shit!" Claire burst out, and then, driven by some flare of mercy she wouldn't have believed herself capable of, started forward slowly, praying her mind was just playing tricks on her. "Lydia?" It was offered hesitantly, and she looked for signs of the white shape she'd seen only a moment before. "Are you… all right?" No answer.

She found herself wandering further and further from the porch, eyes squinted, peering into shadows that revealed nothing of their secrets. "I swear," She whispered, her voice quivering, "If this is some sort of a trick…"

"A trick?" A decidedly male voice, rough and thick with emotions she didn't know how to describe, ripped her from her reverie, seeming to come from all around her. "Matter of fact, yes, it is a trick. Now for the treat!"

A hand shot up from the ground at these words, grasping her firmly by the ankle, and started pulling, like it expected to drag her down into the earth. Claire's lips parted, and she screamed… Only to be stopped by what felt like a thick piece of leather, suddenly stretched between her jaws, filling her mouth. She watched helplessly as a pale, clearly dead form began to draw itself from the ground. Circles under his eyes, dirt in his matted hair, and a grin on his lips that drove all the heat from her body.

"Hi, how ya doing?"

All the blood rushed from Claire Brewster's head, or maybe to her head, because suddenly her pulse was louder in her ears than she could ever remember it being. She twisted, trying to run, but the thing, whatever it was, now had firm grip on both her ankles.

"Hey, easy, just wanted to talk." He assured her, though the dangerous glint in his eyes assured her that this was anything but the truth. He gave her a twist, and she ended up on her backside, staring at him in horror as he rose just enough to leer down at her. "Just a couple of things." He assured her again.

"First I wanted to thank you. No really," He released her with one hand, and held it over where his heart would be, if he were alive, "I owe you big time." She kicked and struggled, and he paid her no mind at all, still gesturing wildly with his free hand. "If it weren't for your little stunt tonight, well, I think maybe I would have never gotten out of there…" Then he paused, and snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "No, who am I kidding? I still would have gotten out."

"But seriously." Now he caught her other leg again, and considered her more slowly, a smile spreading across his face that choked the breath in her. "I wanted to thank you. At great length, with great ceremony… And then… Oh yeah." He licked his lips, looking like he'd just thought of this, and added, "Then I figured I'd bury you alive, fill your coffin with flesh-eating beetles, and watch as they devour your screaming corpse for a couple of centuries."

All said so matter-of-factly, Claire suddenly had the detached, wild hope, that this was some kind of dream. She'd gotten some bad stuff, she was hallucinating… This couldn't be real. This lasted only a moment though, before his grip on her ankles tightened, hard enough to leave bruises, and he bared his teeth at her in a manner that suddenly held nothing at all pleasant, or even sane in it. "So-come-on-let's-do-this!" He gritted, giving her a sudden, savage pull.

Her eyes grew wide in shock, and something like disbelief, as he vanished back into the ground… And then began pulling her with him! She was swallowed up to her knees, the mud sucking at her legs through the stockings she wore, and she realized, with sudden and terrifying clarity, that this was very real.

She did her best to scream again, turning and twisting in the wet grass, and reached out for something, anything to grab onto. Her perfectly manicured nails tore up handfuls of sod, leaving long furrows behind her, as she sank up to her waist… Then her chest… Then her neck…

And she was still doing her best to scream as she vanished altogether, the wet earth swallowing her up without a trace. The grass waved idly in the late night winds for a moment, nothing but a few indications of a struggle indicating that she'd ever been.

In the house, Claire's mother looked up from her cell phone, and glared at the man across from her, irritation in her features. "Well?" She demanded aloud, when he didn't seem to notice her dirty looks. "Aren't you going to go see why she's screaming this time?"

Her husband didn't even look up from his laptop, punching the buttons that would let him check on his latest trade. Up point two percent already. He cleared his throat, and checked on his next stock, not really concerned about one more outburst from his spoiled daughter. "She probably just broke a nail." He assured his wife, who rolled her eyes, and went back to her phone conversation.

"I'm sure she's fine…"

--


	4. An Interesting Reaction

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

"Lydia! Lydia honey, wake up!"

Wake up? Lydia screwed her eyes together more tightly, certain that was the last thing she wanted to do. Out there was pain, in here… Blissful nothing. At the moment, nothing was good. "Go 'way…" She murmured, trying to brush the concerned voice aside with a sweep of her arm, only to find it bound securely to her side. Even this though, wasn't enough to make her want to go back out to that world out there, and face what had happened.

"Lydia, honey…" She was aware of the blankets being drawn away from her, and a sudden sucking hiss of breath. "My god, what happened to you? Lydia… Lydia, did _he_ do this to you?" As if, in a way the girl didn't understand, that would somehow make what had happened all that much worse.

_He_? Lydia finally opened her eyes, and considered the woman. Barbara. Who was she talking about?

Oh, right. The girl stifled a curse, closed her eyes, and tried again to wave away her concern. This time her effort was met with a stabbing flare of pain, and she groaned aloud, annoyed. But she couldn't leave Barbara thinking that Beetlejuice had done this to her… "Claire." She muttered, no longer worried about making things worse by telling her parents. It could never get worse than what had happened last night. "Fucking bitch…"

Barbara looked, to say the least, startled to hear such words come from her sweet Lydia's mouth, but then her eyebrows drew together in concern, as she took in what the girl was saying. "Someone from school did this to you?" She repeated, as if this just wasn't possible. "You're sure it wasn't him?"

Forcing one eye open, Lydia considered her foster mother flatly, utterly uninterested in whatever grudge she held against the poltergeist. "It-was-Claire-fucking-Brewster." She ground out emotionlessly, before closing her eyes again, and hoping that the blessed blackness would return.

"Adam! Adam, there you are… Look what happened to her! Who could have done this?" Lydia grimaced. As if she hadn't just told her…

"I'm calling the hospital." Adam, who'd apparently just arrived on the scene, muttered gravely. "She needs a doctor." Barbara caught his hand, staying him, and looked up with a frown as he almost said something. Then he sighed, relenting, realizing the problem. "Right. Ghosts." He looked down at her again. "We'll just have to wait until her parents come home then."

"Fine," Lydia was vaguely aware of mumbling, "Let me sleep." Her head pounded, heavy, echoing, and hollow, and she found herself drawing her pillow up over her ears, trying to drown out the sound that was actually pain. "I've had a shitty night…"

"No kidding." It was Adam who muttered this, sweeping his hand gently across her forehead. It felt like he'd hit her, but she just squeezed her eyes shut again, and waited for this pain too, to pass. "I can't believe even he would do something like this to her…" He was saying.

Before she could make the effort to correct the assumption, again, she heard Barbara's voice, oddly detached and distant. "She says a girl at school did this…" And after that, once more, blessed nothing.

There was no way to tell just how much time passed after this, lost in dreamless sleep, before she was woken again by the smell of smoke. A little more clear-headed, she managed to open both eyes this time, and with some small measure of effort, focus them on the ghost sitting on her dresser.

He didn't seem to notice her at first, too busy smirking over something that apparently amused him to no end. When he finally did, he flicked the tip of his cigarette, almost in greeting, and flashed her a smile. "Hey babes," He said amiably, "Thought you were dead for sure. Must have a thick head." Then, as if she didn't have every reason to, he added considerately, "You look like hell."

Lydia nodded, accepting this, still a bit groggy. "How long was I out for?" She muttered, drawing her hand across her eyes. She felt, sticky. Gross.

"Long enough for a doctor to come check you out." He informed her calmly. "And here I didn't even know they still made house calls." He took a slow drag on his cigarette, and released a fine mist of silver plumes through both nostrils. "Guy seemed to think if you'd made it this long, you'd be fine."

Lydia considered him, remembering the distinct feel of him leaving her. What did he have to do that was so important? He hadn't even known if she'd survive… Then, maybe it didn't matter to him. "Where'd you go?" She asked warily.

He snorted, in something like laughter. "Unfinished business, babes." He rolled his eyes over to her impassively, though his lips curled in a smirk. "All us dead guys have it, don't you know?"

There really was no answer for that… For all she knew, he was telling the truth. She tried to speak, felt something blocking her throat, and did her best to clear it, only to taste blood. That reminded her. "You saved my life, B-" She'd started to say his name, then broke off sharply, not even noticing the warning lift of his eyebrows. "Beej." She finished softly. If saying his name three times let him out this far, who knew what saying it even more would do?

Beetlejuice considered her, turning this new nickname over in his head, and then grinned slowly, deciding he liked it. And she hadn't forgotten what he'd done so quickly, either… Maybe because it had been her herself that was in danger, instead of someone else. "That's right," He agreed softly, "You owe me, babes."

He expected her to flinch, to look worried, to look scared, but to his surprise, his words didn't seem to faze her in the least. "Yeah," She agreed, as if this were no big deal, "I know." And the truth was, she wasn't scared, not really. After the hell she'd been through the night before, it would take a lot more to scare her than it used to. She lifted her eyes to him, a sort of detached hauntedness to them. "So what do you want from me?" She asked quietly.

The poltergeist grinned, pleased by this turn of events. Not that he trusted her, or anything. But so far, so good. "I want out babes, same as I told you before." She considered him dubiously, but he waved this away, nothing but pleasant. "No worries Lyds, I'll handle all the details. You just lay there, look pretty, and get better."

At first she didn't seem quite willing to accept this, but then after a moment, she nodded, proving herself much more amiable than before. "All right," She agreed, closing her eyes again, "I'll do that…"

Just as he would have taken off though, his ghostly body starting to fade, her eyes flew open again, and fixed on him sharply. "Beej?" She prompted, still not using his name.

He paused, frowning. "Yeah, babes?" Was she going to demand more information now? Was she going to try to back out of their deal? She was her mother's daughter after all, and he couldn't bring himself to forget how that had turned out. Which reminded him, he did still have more unfinished business to settle…

"Please." Was all she said softly. His frowned deepened, and he turned to consider her again. This had seemed to take a lot of her strength though, because it took her another minute to finish what she was trying to say. "Please don't hurt my family, Beej?"

There was no way he could stop himself from scowling at this. Damn. What was she, a mind-reader? "Please Beej," She struggled to sit up, and only subsided when he made an absent gesture for her to remain lying down. She fixed her eyes on him like some kind of wounded puppy. "Please?" She asked again, more softly than before.

Beetlejuice's scowl deepened, but he reminded himself that he did need to stay on her good side, for as long as possible. There would always be time for revenge later. "Yeah, sure babes." He found himself muttering. "Whatever." He flicked the cigarette in her direction, and she didn't even flinch, her eyes simply following it until it faded to nothing at all.

"I don't smoke," She said suddenly, turning her eyes back up to his, "They're going to know something's up."

Ah, back on familiar territory. He shot her his best disarming smile, and shook his head slowly. "Somehow, I don't think that matters anymore." He drawled slowly. "I'm out, babes. Soon I'm going to be more out. Which means I'm not going back, not for a long, long time. You get me?"

Lydia nodded, looking less interested now, and more tired. "Yeah…" She murmured, closing her eyes, and sinking back compliantly into her beckoning pillow. Again though, as he was about to leave, she stopped him. "Hey, Beej?"

He shot her a tolerant look. "Yeah, babes?"

"Are you still going to be in my dreams?" He wasn't sure if she was even still awake as she finished the question, as it came out somewhat unintelligibly, but he had enough of what she was saying to make sense of it.

He chuckled to himself. "That's up to you now, babes." He noted, watching as the lines of her face grew peaceful with sleep. "But there's no real need anymore, is there?" And this time, as he vanished, she made no effort to stop him.

--

"Lydia?" The voice came from far away, and her mind didn't want to make sense of it. She wrinkled her nose, turning her face into the pillow, and ignored the stab of pain that came with it. "Lydia, we need to talk. Wake up."

Her mother. Lydia opened her eyes, giving the woman her nastiest look. She figured she had that right, since waking brought nothing but pain, and here the woman was anyway, waking her. Was she going to try to tell her about Beetlejuice now? She snorted under her breath, figuring the woman was maybe just a little late for that. "Yeah," She asked at length, eager to be left alone, "What?"

Strangely, now that she was awake, her mother seemed to no longer be in any great hurry to say what she had to say. "Barbara told me that a girl named Claire Brewster did this to you." She said at last, in a hesitant way as unlike her mother as anything she knew.

Lydia's lips firmed. What, was the woman going to have her press charges? Because it was her word against a lot of witnesses, who could say she was anywhere else. Lydia knew how that sort of thing worked. "So what?" She asked dully, not willing to dwell too long on just how narrowly she'd escaped not just one bad situation, but two. "It's not like I can prove anything."

Her mother looked pained, disoriented. "They found your friend," She said slowly, just as if Lydia had claimed that her attacker was her friend, "In the quarry. This morning." Lydia blinked, frowned, and sat up a little, not understanding. "She was suffering from severe hypothermia by the time the workers spotted her." Another pause. "She almost died, Lydia."

Why did she say that like it was something bad? Lydia had almost died herself, thanks to that girl! But what she was saying didn't make a lot of sense, granted… No way would the girl have gone after her with any ideas of rescue. What, hours later, she felt a pang of conscience? Lydia didn't buy it.

Then, abruptly, Lydia remembered Beetlejuice's absent smirk as she'd woken up, staring off at nothing at all, apparently very pleased with himself. It stuck in her head for a minute, and she turned it over, trying to figure out if maybe he'd done something. Why would he? Did it matter?

No, it didn't, because she was suddenly certain it was him. Unfinished business indeed. Her lips curved in a soft, amused expression, and before she could stop herself, she started laughing.

Her mother stared at her in shock, like she'd just sprouted a demon head. "Lydia!" She said sharply, getting to her feet. "That girl almost died! How can you laugh?"

Lydia felt her expression grow cold, and the next words were past her lips before she could think them through. "Damn that bitch to hell." She said shortly, with such venom in her voice that it even took her aback. Had she really just said that? She felt something sick curling in her stomach. "Damn her to hell." She said again, this time with considerably less vehemence. "She left me to die."

Her mother had been about to say something else, angry, scared, but when Lydia said this, her expression suddenly became very still. She looked at Lydia for a long, long moment, and then quietly, she whispered, "What happened to you?" Her voice had now reached the point where it was actually shaking. "Were there others with her? Were there… boys?" Apparently, this possibility had not yet occurred to her.

She wanted to assure her mother that nothing like _that_ had happened, although possibly only because it hadn't been given the chance, but what could she say? "They didn't rape me, mom." She muttered at last, reclining back on the bed. "They didn't get a chance."

Still, that look on her face, that fear. "Didn't get a chance?" She echoed aloud, slowly. "Lydia," If anything, she seemed more frightened now, "What happened?"

To this, Lydia had nothing to say. She just stared at a point on the far wall, her eyes half lidded in a sense of utter self contempt, for in those moments she truly wished that the girl had died. Certainly she hoped she'd suffered. "I don't want to talk about it." She said finally, her voice soft. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's over."

It was there in the woman's eyes, if she'd turned to look. But she didn't have to. She already knew. Lydia's mom was afraid she'd done that to Claire, in self-defense, yes, but here she was, sitting there before her with a look of pure ugliness on her face, laughing at a class-mate's near death. For a minute, looking at it that way, Lydia even hated herself.

"I'm going to get you something to drink." Olivia said at last, something heavier in her voice than there'd been before. "The doctor said you should be certain to get plenty of fluids… Doctors always say that, you know." She paused though, halfway out the door, and turned back. "You should have told me that you were having problems." She said softly.

To this, Lydia said nothing at all.

--

Lydia was awake when he reappeared in her room, a look on her face far more mature than her years, along with something like a loss of innocence, and an awareness of it. He considered her sitting there, looking off at nothing at all, not even aware of him yet. She really did look like hell. Or some incarnation of it. And still about as hot as they came.

He opened his mouth to announce his presence to her, when the door swung open again, and he hastily went transparent, remembering his temporary promise not to make trouble. It was a woman he didn't recognize at first, and so he frowned, considering her for upwards of a minute, before he placed her. Olivia. That bitch.

But what life did to the living… She looked older, so much so that he was a little surprised. Not that he'd bothered keeping time or anything. Still drop dead gorgeous, mind, but… Something was different. Something that wasn't in her hair or her eyes, or the tiny traces of lines, almost imperceptible still. It was like, something had been taken out of her. As if whatever had drawn him to her once as so unique, so unlike the rest of these humdrum living, was just gone now.

Despite himself, it bothered him a little, to see that. He stared at her with glum eyes, wondering what had happened to the girl so brimming with morbid interest, dark fascinations, and a grasp of the world beyond sight that was matched by few he'd known before, and only one since. So this was what growing up meant these days? Forgetting everything you were, everything you loved, and… conforming?

She'd deserved better than that. Never mind what she'd done to him, to see that little spark of fire he'd loved so much, just gone… That was worse than anything he could have done to her. There was no point in revenge anymore. It kind of pissed him off, and kind of depressed him. Damned if he'd let that happen to Lydia.

The two hadn't said a word to each other, Lydia just sat there still looking at nothing at all. Her thumb absently played with his ring, and for some reason now, her lips curved in something of amusement. It honestly restored his faith in the world.

Right, like he was like that.

"Lydia." Her mother was trying to get her attention, and the girl gave it grudgingly. Something had gone hard in her eyes, but he could see what her mother could, that it just pressed her further into what she'd been before, not less, and unlike her, this pleased him. "I'm going to leave it up to you, if you think you should talk to police about this. But, if you don't," She hesitated, before saying softly, "It might just make things worse."

For a minute his bride-to-be just considered her mother, and then her eyes softened, just marginally, and she sighed. "Mother… I didn't do anything to her. I don't know what happened, even if I've got a good idea." She sat up a little more, and her face twisted briefly in pain. She made the obvious effort of ignoring it, and continued. "I wouldn't give a damn if she'd died," She said, putting her hand lightly on her mother's arm, "But I didn't do it, okay?"

The look her mother gave her was one of utter disbelief, not for a moment buying into her daughter's words. "If that's the way you want to leave it…" She said at last, something of a wall falling between them.

Lydia reacted to it instantly, her eyes closing off from the woman as if some shadow had fallen across them. He saw then, a glimpse of the relationship the two had. For a long moment after this, silence stretched, and then Olivia turned, without another word, and walked away.

Slowly, Lydia hissed out between her teeth, and closed her eyes, tipping her face towards the ceiling. "Hell she was ever like me…" She said softly, and clearly to herself.

Shaking her head, she straightened again, and threw her legs over the side of the bed, as if preparing to stand. Instead though, she clearly was taking the opportunity to survey the damage that had been done. She was covered in a rainbow coloring of bruises, from an ugly green, to a fading yellow, to some still dark and purple. And there was no counting the number of scrapes that had ripped her soft skin.

"Trust me, babes," He heard himself intoning, matter-of-factly, never even having made the decision to speak, "I've seen worse."

She looked up as he appeared, something glinting in her eyes that at first he took for anger, and was rather surprised a moment later when he realized it was actually relief. "Beej…" She said it like a little prayer, suddenly looking tired and heavy, and a bit out of sorts. "God, look at me."

"I am." He assured her, lidding his eyes in a lazy, cat-like way. "Told you, I've seen worse. Hell of a lot worse." He crossed his legs at the ankle, leaning against her wall, and considered her with an appraising eye. "You? You won't even have a scar to show for it. Not on your skin anyway."

As if on cue, Lydia bared her teeth, looking a bit fey, and then forced it into a smile. "You got a thing for revenge?" She asked, almost calmly, as if words and expression had nothing at all to do with the same thing.

"Hell yeah," He agreed vehemently, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "You can't tell me you feel sorry for the little bitch, after what she tried to do…"

"No." It was said without hesitation, without even the smallest qualm, and he grinned ear to ear, pleased to see this more bloodthirsty side to her. "But why do it?" She turned to him now, doubt in her gaze. "You got what you wanted. Without her, maybe you wouldn't have. Shouldn't you have thanked her?"

"Oh," His mouth settled into the self-satisfied smirk that suited him so well, "I thanked her. I made sure to do that. But babes," He paused, fixing her with the intense green of his gaze, "I told you, sooner or later, one way or another, you were going to say my name. All she did," He settled back again, watching her, "Sped it up a little. And slowed it down."

He expected her to question this last part, but she didn't, still not pressing into just how it was she had anything to do with him being able to stay out. "Yeah, well," She eyed the floor, clearly considering her ability to stand, before giving it up, and turning her eyes back to him, "You didn't kill her."

Both his eyebrows rose. "She's still alive?" He echoed in surprise. She nodded, as if the fact didn't exactly please her either. "Hmm." He crossed his arms, staring at his hand, where he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together slowly. After a moment, he grinned. "Just as well," He noted softly, "I wasn't really done with her yet anyway."

When he looked up again, Lydia was smiling. It might have been an ugly smile, but on her… Well, it looked good.

--

They were deep in conversation when Barbara heard the faint sound of someone on the stairs, and looked up in surprise. It had only been a day, it couldn't be Lydia… But it was. From the look on her face though, as she observed the meeting currently taking place, she wasn't sure she'd made the right choice, getting up at all.

A small frown on her face, she hesitated just for a breath, considering going back up. Then she forced a smile, nodded to Barbara and Adam, who were standing, and then tried not to look at any of them as she gingerly came the rest of the way down the stairs. Truthfully, she'd just been on her way to the kitchen… And she hoped to god that none of them wanted to talk about what had happened.

"Lydia." It was Adam who spoke, and his tone was grave. "We need you to sit down. There's something we should have talked about before now." A small pause, and then quietly, "I only hope we're not too late."

Lifting an eyebrow, Lydia considered him, and then did her best not to make a face. The Maitland's always were a step ahead of her parents, when it came to her. So, they wanted to talk about Beetlejuice… She cast a slow glance around the room, as if stalling, but truthfully wondering where he was. That faint sense of him was still in the air, she was certain he hadn't gone far.

"Yeah, sure." She said slowly, coming down the last couple of steps, and moving to take her place on the couch between her 'parents.' "I don't really have anything to say though." She warned, wincing as she sank into the cushion.

"Then just listen." It was Barbara now. Unintentionally, Lydia's face softened a little, facing her. She liked the woman, she honestly did. "We have to tell you something. Something that happened before you were born." She paused as Lydia's hand went to her ring, almost defensively. Maybe she didn't want to know, did Barbara think of that? "Yes," The ghost woman agreed softly, having no way to know what Lydia was thinking, "It's about him."

This ought to be good. She was certain now that Beetlejuice occupied a small area along the wall just next to them, not three feet away, hovering a few inches above the ground. Seeing that the story was about him… Suddenly she did want to know. To hell with not knowing what to expect from the poltergeist. Time to lay it all out. "Why did he give mom this ring?" She asked softly. Not that she liked thinking of it as her mother's ring… Because it wasn't. It was hers.

Unsurprisingly, it wasn't her mother who answered. She seemed lost in a world of her own, and just as happy not remembering. This time her father wasn't even there. Lydia wondered who'd decided that.

Lydia however, listened with more and more fascination as Adam and Barbara took turns telling the story… First their story, how they had lived, briefly, and then how they had died. She'd never known they'd drowned. And right off the Winter River Bridge she loved so much. Then about her grandparents coming, her mother in tow.

It amazed her, as the story went on, just how much they described Olivia the way she'd have expected them to describe her. Amazed her, and more than a little, scared her. The Olivia they talked about sounded like someone she would have liked to know… What had happened to that girl? Would it happen to her too?

And then, enter Beetlejuice. Only of course, they didn't say his name. She listened with perhaps more than appropriate interest, especially when she learned how to send him back. She missed just what happened next in the story, as she turned this little fact over in her head. She could do it. She alone knew he was out. But that was a hell of a way to pay him back…

When Barbara faltered, describing the exorcism, Lydia felt her first true chill of dread. She'd never known how close she came to losing them… And then she heard Beetlejuice's part in it, and was truly stunned. The rest, she only listened to with half an ear. She was shaken, deeply, and maybe not for the reasons they might have expected.

All through the story, her mother hadn't said a word, her face simply twisted in something like grief, something like fear, and a sense that Lydia would have sworn was remembering something she'd lost. When it was done, Adam and Barbara just sort of sat there, looking grim, looking worried. But all Lydia could do was stare at her mother. She'd swear… she almost saw regret there.

"You betrayed him." She whispered. The people in the room with her couldn't have reacted with more surprise if they'd literally jumped out of their skin. Olivia opened her mouth to retort, but Lydia was already steaming ahead. "He saved them, and you broke your promise! You always told me how much your word means to you! So what the hell, it didn't count because you changed your mind?"

Olivia stared at her daughter, stunned. "He tried to force me to marry him," She said at last, slowly, as if somehow Lydia didn't understand what she was saying here, "I was no older than you… Can you even begin to understand what that was like? He was dirty, perverted…" Her face twisted, as if disgusted just by the memory. "He was cruel, Lydia…"

The girl just stared at her mother as if she didn't know her, and then finally, at last, turned away. "Did you ever regret it?" She asked softly, wanting the answer more for Beetlejuice's sake than her own.

Her mother hesitated. "No." She said at last. But she had hesitated. After a moment, she tried to explain this away. "It wasn't that I wasn't grateful for what he'd done, Barbara and Adam… They're family." She paused, then went on to say, "But he had no right to ask what he asked."

Maybe. Lydia could see why her mother had been terrified by the idea, anyway. But she'd broken a promise. She'd punished him, when he'd saved her two best friends in the world. Maybe he had no right to ask. But he had asked. And she had agreed. Lydia, just couldn't look at her mother anymore.

"We're trying to warn you." Adam said softly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. All she could think of, was that he wouldn't be able to do that at all, if not for Beetlejuice. "You're already wearing the ring that he never managed to get on Olivia's hand. The fact that you can't take it off…" He fell silent for a moment, then pressed on, obviously against his will. "We thought he was gone. Now, I just don't know."

"We don't want anything to happen to you, Lydia." Barbara agreed softly. Barbara. Who'd tried to feed him to a… what was it? A sandworm? Gentle, never hurt anyone, Barbara. Damn it, wasn't anything what she'd thought it was?

Lydia lifted her head, and looked at them. Her family. Where was her father, anyway? Her lips thinned, and she considered each of them in turn. Her mother, who really had once been like her. The Maitland's, who she'd almost never had the chance to know.

And of course, Beetlejuice. She squeezed her fist inside another fist, trying to figure out how she felt about all this, then lifted her hand, and bit her thumb. "I'm hungry." She said between her teeth.

The reaction was immediate, as she'd known it would be. Barbara, always the more natural in the kitchen, headed that way without a word, while Adam said something about getting a pillow for her, and her mother disappeared silently, probably to find her father. They were all relieved to get away from her, eager to escape the heavy sense of discomfort their memories brought them.

Lydia turned her eyes to where he was, without question, without doubt. Her thumb still held lightly between her teeth. "Beej?" She prompted softly.

He was there in an instant, proving that he'd been there all along. "Yeah, babes?" He asked warily. As if he expected her to do what her mother had done, and try to send him back, after all he'd done for her.

She released the digit, and lifted her head. "Were they right?" She asked softly. When he didn't answer, just gazing at her darkly, she pressed on. "I mean, is that what you want? What you meant when you said you wanted out?" Still no answer. Despite herself, her voice dropped a little, at the next, "You want me to marry you?"

Beetlejuice scowled. He couldn't help it, he could already see where this was going. But she owed him, damn it! "Yeah," He muttered, hoping that this time, at least he wouldn't get eaten, "That's right. So, what are you going to do about it?" He should've known, just like he should've with her mother. Pretty thing like that… So full of all this wonderful sense of being lost in shadow… She'd never agree to it. Somehow, this time, he didn't have the will to try to force her, as he'd done with her mother.

She considered him for a long time, before her poor thumb returned to its place between her perfect teeth. She was trying to find a way out of it, obviously. He debated just letting her go, as long as she didn't try to send him back… It made him want to bare his teeth. He didn't _wanna_ let her go! He was so lost in thought that the fact that she was speaking again was almost lost on him. He turned back to her with scowl. "What's that, babes?" He asked shortly.

"I said, all right." She repeated, with that trace of annoyance someone has, when the other person missed something important. He just stared at her for a moment, not understanding. She lifted her head, and something in her eyes gleamed in a way that was almost familiar. "You want to get married," She said slowly, looking thoughtful, "Let's get married."

--


	5. Lines That Are Drawn

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

Beetlejuice was certain he couldn't have heard right. He stared at her, eyes narrowed, as she seemed to lose interest in the subject, and started twisting her hair around, inspecting the matted ends. She made a face, clearly not pleased with her findings. And he continued to stare. "You serious, Lyds?" He asked at length, feeling all too ready to be at the wrong end of the punch line, again. "'Cause if you're not…"

She turned her eyes to him, sort of absently. "Yeah?" She challenged softly, then, before he could retort, she shrugged, saying, "Yeah, so what if I am? It's what you want, right? Like you said, I owe you." Before he could think of a proper reply to this, she stood, albeit with some effort, and glanced down at herself unhappily. "I'm… going to take a bath." She said at last. "I feel _so_ gross."

Grinning, Beetlejuice caught her around the middle, making her yelp. Quickly he adjusted his grip, remembering her bruises, and cast her his most mischievous look. "Need some company, babes?" He offered, with faux innocence.

Lydia squirmed in his grip, and relenting, he let go. She was blushing, her gaze scolding, but something in her expression actually seemed mildly amused. It took a minute though, before she could seem to think of anything to say. "You act like you'd even want to, when I'm this big a wreck…" She muttered, starting to turn away.

"Hey," He said with a soft laugh, "I'd still hit that."

She spun on him with wide eyes, struggling not to be shocked at his bluntness. He bared every tooth at her, daring her to be offended, and after a minute, she squirmed under that gaze. Her lower lip pouted, just a little, when she couldn't immediately come up with a scathing retort. "Pervert." She resorted to at last, turning away.

"Hey, whatever babes." He agreed, watching her with an appreciative stare. A few cuts and bruises, so what? Like he'd told her, he'd seen a hell of a lot worse. "You know you love it." He moved to catch her from behind again…

And cursed to himself, going invisible as Barbara poked her head back into the living room, looking surprised to see Lydia on her feet. Her eyes, without fail, moved around the room, as if like Lydia, suspecting what she couldn't see. "Is everything okay?" She asked slowly, sounding decidedly unsure.

Lydia cast her a tired look, pulling her long hair up over her arm from behind. He wanted to touch it. God, he wanted to smell it. His fingers twitched, just inches from the strands… "I'm going to take a bath," She said again, this time with a sigh, "Maybe the hot water will help me feel better." A pause, then, "Hell, being clean will make me feel a lot better."

The ghost woman ran her hands down the front of her simple dress, casting another look around the room. Beetlejuice was sure she knew he was there. But she didn't try to send him back, because she wasn't positive, and couldn't risk summoning him. He laughed to himself. Death was full of these little inconveniences, wasn't it?

"All right," Barbara agreed at last, starting to turn away, then pausing, "Lydia?" This was said a little differently from the way she'd been speaking before, somehow as if this were more important. "Can I ask you something?"

His latest bride to be turned, already halfway up the stairs, and squelched any suspicion from her reply. "Yeah?" She didn't, Beetlejuice noted, turn back around.

For all that she had a question, Barbara didn't seem in any hurry to ask it. "You were in, bad shape." She said finally, for all appearances inspecting the molding of the doorframe. "How, exactly, did you get home?" There was no mistaking the weight of the question. It was all Beetlejuice could do not to knock her feet out from under her, and lock her up somewhere, until the deed was done.

But no, he'd made a _promise_…

Lydia took her own time in answering, then looked back at Barbara with a tiny, amused twist of her lips. "Someone played knight in shining armor for me." She said, making him choke back a laugh. He'd been called a lot of things in his day, but that? "Carried me home." A pause, then softly, "Yeah, kinda surprised me too."

He started, wondering if she was reading his mind, then realized that she was actually just referring to her own words. He made a face. It surprised her that he'd saved her? Whatever, it was done now, and while he was still wary about last minute mind changes, things seemed to be going well. But there was that Barbara Maitland to worry about…

"So, if you were in trouble," She was saying now, "You'd tell me?" There was he noticed, some doubt to the question.

Lydia lifted her head, tightening her fingers briefly on the banister. "Yeah," She said at last, no great certainty to the word, "Sure, Barb." It was so blatantly a lie that Beetlejuice fully expected the woman to call her on it, but instead she just nodded, as if satisfied, and went back in the kitchen.

For a while, Lydia just stood there, as if not pleased that she in fact, hadn't pressed it. She said nothing about this though. After a moment, when she did speak, it was to him. "Beej?" She prompted softly.

"Yeah, babes?" He whispered, startling her a little, so close that he made her jump.

Her lips twisted, half in amusement, half in irritation, as she headed back up the stairs. "Stay the hell out of the bathroom." She said simply.

Beetlejuice chuckled, and traced his finger down the back of her neck, making her shiver. "Sure thing, babes," He drawled slowly, "We've got all the time in the world…"

--

She might have told him to stay out of the bathroom, but for the life of her, she couldn't keep him out of her head. Figuratively, that was. Something had changed between them since his rescue, and while she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not, it was a hell of a lot easier to take. No longer the thing that haunted her dreams, now he was almost a friend… sort of. But he was. Sort of.

Lydia couldn't quite shake that sense of him she'd had in her last dream though, that unseen figure in the dark, watching her, peeling away her defenses… She stepped from the tub slowly, already feeling a good deal better, and wondered if there was anything to the old idea of taking a hot bath to sooth one's pains. Anyway, she now felt considerably less… icky.

_Beetlejuice will solve that_. Just the thought of him heated her skin, and made her shake her head. How could someone lust after her that much, and when she was like this? Never mind she was practically a kid… But in his eyes, the way he looked at her, she felt, glowing. Like, some unattainable idea of desirability, or…

_Ugh, I'm putting way too much thought into this_. She'd been staring at the mirror, still unclothed, remembering when he'd been looking back. In no hurry, for whatever reason, to get dressed. At last she just pulled a terrycloth bathroom around herself, one of her father's white ones off the shelf, and tied the belt around her slowly. Yeah, Beetlejuice would love this… She caught herself thinking this, and made a face. Damn, what was she, obsessed with him now?

The chill of the rest of the house was an unpleasant shock after the billowing steam of the bathroom, and Lydia couldn't quite help but frown, suppressing a little shiver. She hoped that wasn't him, up to his tricks. A glance around didn't reveal anything of him though, and after an extended moment, she grudgingly retreated to her bedroom.

And paused. There, thrown across the bed by the armful, were an odd shade of yellow-brown lilies, with long stems. Some looked dead, others looked pressed, and a rare handful looked like they'd just been pulled from the ground. Overwhelmingly though, they left a sweet, spicy smell that filled her senses, and while almost making her sneeze from the strength of it, also made her oddly giddy.

She plucked on of the fresher ones from the bed, regarding it dubiously. A tiger lily, maybe? She'd never seen one like this before… "Way to keep a low profile…" She muttered to herself, then, belatedly, and a bit softer, "Thanks, Beej." She swore that a chuckle answered her, but this time, there was no trace of him at all.

She'd just finished stuffing the last of the flowers in various drawers and closet spaces, barely finding enough room for them all, when someone knocked on her door, and Adam's distinctive voice greeted her. "Lydia? You out of the shower?"

Lydia cast a quick, semi-desperate look around, to see if she'd missed anything. Now she was keeping his secrets for him too… And apparently more concerned about it than he was. "Come in." She said at length, sitting on the edge of her bed with a decidedly more exhausted feeling than before.

He nudged open the door, apparently with both hands quite full of what looked like a bowl of soup, and a tall glass. _Check that, a bowl of stew_, she thought, sucking in a deep, greedy breath. And what looked like a glass of lemon lime soda. God, she'd had no idea how hungry she was.

"Barbara said you'd gone to take a bath, so it gave her time to get fancy." He greeted her with a smile. Halfway in the room, he paused, and made a visible show of sniffing the air. "What's that smell?" He asked, a small frown on his gentle features.

It caught her, for about a second, dumbly. Of course he'd notice the smell. "A, new perfume?" She attempted valiantly, almost wincing as it came out more like a question.

"Oh." He took a deep smell again, then nodded, as if satisfied. It really was getting far too easy to lie to her family… "It suits you." Setting the bowl and glass on her nightstand, he paused before leaving, considering her with a long, thoughtful stare.

"What is it?" She asked squirming self-consciously, well aware of how bad she looked, whatever Beej might say.

Surprisingly her, Adam Maitland dropped on his knees before her, sweeping her up in maybe the gentlest hug she'd ever known. "We almost lost you…" He whispered, layers of grief, layers of fear, in those four simple words.

A lump rose in Lydia's throat, and she thought back to how she'd considered those very words of him, just a short time before. "You wouldn't have lost me," She joked weakly, forcing a smile he couldn't see, "I just would have had a lot more time to spend with you. A few centuries, maybe."

Adam pulled away, looking suddenly very grim. "Don't even joke about that." He said softly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, before standing. "Barb and I, we couldn't stand it if anything ever happened to you."

And it hadn't. For the same reason it hadn't happened to him. "I know how you feel." She assured him sincerely. Beetlejuice. It all came back to Beetlejuice. She'd never get past how much she owed him. If she didn't marry him… Well, she'd just never feel right. Because that was what he wanted.

_Yeah, and you Lydia,_ a teasing voice rose to the fore of her mind, _what do you want?_

_I've never known what I wanted, _she dismissed it, with little effort_, why should that change now?_ But unerringly, persistently, her thoughts returned to that figure in the darkness, watching her, haunting her… Waiting for her. It gave her a little chill, even now. Those eyes… They were just nothing like human.

And she'd never been one to consider that as a bad thing…

--

She was asleep on her bed by the time he returned from his 'walk' around the property, testing the outermost limits of his ability to leave her. Satisfied with his findings, he was even more satisfied to return to the sight of her draped carelessly over her blanket, wearing nothing but a thin white bathrobe. Her hair, wet, sticking here and there on her face… He slid a few strands aside, getting a better look at her sleeping features, and shook his head in amusement. The girl had no idea…

Beetlejuice made a concentrated effort not to wake her as he slid in bed behind her, considering the small curve of her back with an appreciative eye. She was tiny thing, wasn't she? Unable to resist, he reached out with his fingertips, trailing them down from the curve of her neck, down, down to the small of her back…

Shifting a little at the ticklish sensation, she turned suddenly as he was about to reach her buttocks, fixing him with a surprised glare. She didn't yelp in outrage or anything though. He fixed her in turn with his most charming smile. "You get my flowers, babes?" He greeted her, just as if he hadn't been caught with wandering hands.

"Beej…" She made the endearing little nickname something of a curse, and drew away from him, modestly fixing her bathrobe. "Damn you." For once, she truly did look annoyed, not just amused or scared. "What, now I can't even sleep, without being worried you'll try to cop a feel?"

A bit annoyed himself by her reaction at his harmless caress, he frowned, and tried to pass it off as unimportant. "Don't flatter yourself, Lyds." He advised her shortly, sitting up. He swore though, in the next minute he could have decked himself, because she actually looked hurt at his callousness. What the hell, would the girl make up her frigging mind?

He continued to stare at her, not trying to apologize with his eyes, but reveal the lie he'd just offered. After a moment, he seemed to succeed, because color crept up her pale breast, and her lips tightened in an expression he couldn't read. "Yeah, right," She muttered to herself, visibly drawing away from him, "Like you can keep your mind out of the gutter for two seconds…"

His face split in a grin, pleased he hadn't actually had to retract his words, or get all apologetic. Not his style. "Now that you mention it…" He agreed, reaching out with snake strike speed, and grasping her by the arm, "You might already know me too well!"

Before she could protest, he'd caught her other arm as well, and pulled her into a hungry kiss, twisting her about, and almost beneath him. He laughed to himself as first she froze in shock, then muttered something angry against his lips, then gave a good hard squirm to get away. When he didn't relent, still savoring the taste of her, she drew her knee up and gave him a solid thump in the chest.

Now he drew away, laughing, and left her lying there disheveled, not noticing yet that the split of her bathrobe had given way slightly at her retaliation. Sitting up quickly, she straightened herself, fixing him with a furious, and somewhat confused glance. "Damn you, Beetle-"

"Ah!" He covered her mouth quickly with one hand, raising an eyebrow.

She swatted him away, relenting, but obviously upset about something. "Beej!" She finished, almost vehemently. "Bastard!" He just grinned. She could hit him now, he didn't care. It had been worth it. Instead she just sat there, not quite shaking in anger, but shaking at… something. Well, he did have a pretty powerful kiss…

At length she got to her feet, and moved off the bed, as much as anything as if just to put some distance between them. "You're an asshole, you know that?" She demanded at length, already sounding considerably less pissed.

What could he say to that? It was the truth. "What's your point, babes?" He asked, pleased with the way his day had gone, even if she wasn't. "You knew I wasn't some Prince Charming… You wouldn't have given me the time of day, if I was."

She cast him the most scathing look she was able to muster, which at the moment, wasn't much. "You saved my life," She said, matter-of-factly, "Saved Adam and Barb too. So I owe you. That doesn't mean I'm going to put up with your bullshit."

He stifled a laugh, because though she wouldn't admit it, she was still trying her best not to blush. Sounding all big and in control… And couldn't even take a little kiss. "Whatever you say, Lyds." He smirked.

Lydia just shook her head, and began moving with short, hurried steps, back and forth, seven paces, seven paces. She did this for upwards of five minutes, until he thought he would go mad, just watching her torture herself like that. "So what?" He demanded at last, showing just the tips of his teeth. "You're really going to spazz out for a little kiss?"

She stopped, almost in midstep, and cast him a helpless, irritated glance. "It just… wasn't what I expected." She said at last, just as if this made sense.

"What wasn't?" He asked lazily, truthfully already losing interest. Far more fascinating, the slight sway of the edge of her robe as she walked, revealing tantalizing glimpses of pale flesh… He tried not to be too obvious about staring, but didn't go to any great pains to hide it either. "What are you talking about, babes?"

"My first kiss." She informed him, a little shortly.

This drew his attention, and he lifted his eyes to hers, mildly amused. "You never been kissed before, kid?" He asked, trying not to laugh. "Hot-blooded little number like you?" He snorted indelicately, rolling back on her bed. "Living guys must be idiots."

"Maybe they have manners…" He heard her mutter, and couldn't help but grin. Damn, it had still been worth it, even if she didn't have a good thing to say about him for days. A long pause though, and then, oddly, she changed the subject. "Where did you get those flowers, anyway? I've never seen any like them."

"Not likely to, for a long time." He said simply, then turned his head, and regarded her with a calculating eye. She already looked like she was trying to be less annoyed. "Babes," He said simply, going back to the subject she was obviously trying to move on from, "I ain't no gentleman. Get used to it."

She made a strangled little sound of irritation in her throat, threw something at him that was close at hand, and stalked out of the bedroom, trying not to limp. He lifted the jacket she'd tossed at him, inspecting the dark red. Blood-colored, he'd say.

That reminded him… He still had to find a dress…

--

Lydia was frustrated. With herself, with Beetlejuice… With the fact that she wasn't nearly as upset as she'd let on. In retrospect, it seemed kind of harmless, even. Just a kiss. Oh, but he was gross, dead and dirty, and nothing she'd ever call good-looking…

Her breath caught in her throat, and she put her hand on the railing, briefly dizzy. And that had been one _hell_ of a kiss. Maybe that was why she couldn't be mad at him.

She lifted her head at the sound of someone downstairs, and an image flashed through her mind, of another meeting like the one she'd been unable to avoid last time. Not that nothing good had come out of it… She headed towards the attic instead, figuring that if the Maitland's were downstairs with her parents, then that would be the place to get a little alone time. Surely even Beetlejuice wasn't crazy enough to follow her there…

It was in fact, quiet, still, with no sign of her ghostly foster parents. Lydia walked over to Adam's model, considering it with an appreciative eye. It had changed so much, just in the time she could remember… Even though he couldn't leave the walls of this house, he kept track of every change to their little town.

And it was bigger now. Stopping just short, in fact, of the stone quarry. Lydia made legs with her fingers, and strolled along the edge of where she should have stopped, but hadn't. Leaving all these familiar landmarks behind. A chill settled somewhere between her shoulder blades, and she shivered. Damn. Stupid.

Drawing her hand back away, she lifted a small plastic tree between her thumb and forefinger, one Adam hadn't placed yet. They'd recently planted a number of such trees along Main Street, she remembered. Their leaves had turned bright purple with the fall, almost black. Sure enough, little black leaves, made of silk, if she wasn't mistaken.

Replacing the tree, she walked to the far end of the attic, and peered out the window. Her heart seized briefly as she saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway, and momentary panic gripped her mind. Someone had come to visit? No one ever came to visit… No one she ever wanted to see, anyway. She tried to place the car itself, unsuccessfully. That just made her more certain that it must be bad news…

She considered staying in the attic. Just until the car left. She fingered various tools of Adam's, placing each back precisely where it had been when she found it, turning the problem over and over in her mind. It was probably nothing. It might not even have anything to do with her. God, maybe grandma and grandpa had gotten a new car? Not that they ever had reason to visit.

Lydia bit her lip, and reluctantly headed back to the stairs, like a guilty child. She didn't make a sound as she descended the first steps, and didn't go as far as to go down the second flight of stairs, lowering herself instead to her knees by the railing, and peering down the gap into the living room.

Adam and Barbara were there, which was odd, as they didn't normally risk being seen by the rare observant person. Now though, they were hanging onto someone's every word, and so far, that person didn't even seem to notice they were there. That had always baffled her… For now she ignored it, trying to see who was on the couch with her mother and father. Whoever it was sat between them. She strained her ears to hear.

"So, you're certain that your daughter is quite safe?" The person was asking, as if they knew some reason she shouldn't be. "Because Miss Brewster was quite adamant about what happened…"

For an instant, Lydia could have sworn she'd died, because she was certain her heart had stopped. At least she couldn't feel it anymore. Before she could process this, a ghostly brush settled along her left side, and moved, with unerring curiosity, down the stairs. She bit her lip. _Damn it, Beetlejuice! Are you trying to get us caught?_

No sooner had that sense of him reached the living room, than everyone there fell silent for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable, with no one sure why. Lydia rolled her eyes. Yeah, he was real subtle… About as subtle as a walking dead man could be.

Unfortunately, before she could decide whether or not to take the risk as well, her mother looked up, and saw her, foolishly trying to hide behind the meager railing. "Lydia," She said aloud, sounding relieved, "Good, you're awake. Can you come down here, please?"

"I'd rather not." She answered truthfully, her voice a little dull. She suspected that it hadn't actually been a request though.

The person sitting with her parents stood up, and she finally got a good look at him. She still couldn't place him though. Nor could she shake the feeling of dread, quickly turning to nausea in her stomach. A glance at the Maitland's proved them watching too, and… And she swore she'd never seen the two of them angry before.

"Lydia," Her mother went on, indicating the man before her, "This is Deputy Garin." She paused briefly, then said, in a lower voice, "He has some questions to ask you."

--

At first Garin couldn't make out much of the girl, not with her obviously trying not to be seen, and succeeding. He was mildly surprised at how young she looked, since he'd assumed her to be the same age as the Brewster girl. As she rose slowly though, and descended the staircase, he could see his mistake. She was small, slender, and had a way of making herself look even more so. But this, he knew as his eyes were drawn unwillingly to her graceful walk, was no kid.

She stopped a few feet away from him, clad in a terrycloth bathrobe, and not seeming to care that he'd interrupted her privacy. Her eyes were heavy and dark, and she gazed at him impassively, as if he were nothing at all extraordinary. Against the white of her robe, her bruises stood out as if they'd been outlined, across her face, down her arms, almost covering her legs. He swore to himself softly. Maybe she really did jump into the quarry…

"May I ask what happened?" He asked, as politely as possible. She just continued staring at him, something in her eyes far older than a girl her age should ever look. Eyes that peered right through him, and stole his words away. "Miss Brewster," He began, than fumbled, and tried once more, "Your classmate. You heard what happened to her."

"Something about it." She agreed, matter-of-factly, showing no sign of sympathy for the other girl. "She's alive, right?"

He cleared his throat, feeling like he was the one being questioned here, for all that this was all she'd said so far. "She is." He agreed. "I wanted to ask about you, because she claimed you were dead. That you and some friends of hers got into an altercation at the quarry, and…" Here his words failed him, briefly. He got the sudden, distinct sense of being in a bad position. "She said that you jumped."

The girl's mother closed her eyes, briefly, though Lydia didn't seem to notice. "I didn't jump." She said coldly, something in her almost growing hostile. "They pushed me over the edge, and they left me to die. They didn't even check to see if I was still alive, they just… left me there."

It was a little unnerving, the straightforward way she said this, and he wondered if more than her body had been damaged in the fall. The woman, Olivia, was paler than her daughter, who was admittedly very pale. "You didn't tell me…" She said softly, looking like she was about to cry, "My god, Lydia, you could have died!"

At this, Lydia flinched, just marginally, but with clear sympathy for her mother. Her lips pursed a little, and she turned her head to look at the woman, then cast her gaze to the far side of the room, at a potted plant. Her eyes remained here for a very long time, and seemed oddly focused, more as if she were looking at something he couldn't see, than doing her best not to look at anything at all.

"Why didn't you contact the police?" The words seemed more than a little out of place, and Deputy Garin was a little surprised to realize that he was the one who'd spoken.

This actually seemed to get her attention, because she turned her gaze back to him, her eyes slowly refocusing. "It was my word against theirs." She said at last, as if this were the simplest thing in the world. "And there were more of them, to say they'd been anywhere else."

He frowned, coming to the conclusion that this was just a kid who'd been through a hell of a lot, and hadn't yet come to terms with it. "That may be the way it works in mystery novels," He informed her sternly, "But in real life…" He considered her, gesture vaguely in her direction. "Anyone looking at you is going to know that you didn't do that to yourself."

For a long moment, she considered him, and then unerringly, turned her gaze back towards the potted plant. "So what do you want from me?" She asked aloud, as if more of the room at large than of him. "I survived, she survived… Who cares? It's over." With this, she walked over to a chair off to the side, and sat down, her hair falling in a loose veil over her face. A curtain between her and the rest of the world.

Then, before he could challenge this, she lifted her head, a glint of something curious in her dark eyes. "What did Claire say she was doing down there, anyway?" She asked, as if this were actually of some interest. "No way she was looking for me…"

This stumped him. He'd assumed she had at least some idea what had happened to the girl… "She claimed that she was attacked." He said at last, slowly, watching her expression for some clue that she knew more than she was letting on. "By some guy in a fright mask. She wasn't exactly coherent…" He decided not to mention for now that the girl had claimed he was dead, and dragged her through a number of graves before leaving her to die. "I thought it might be someone you knew."

Lydia's lips pursed, just a little, and she shrugged. "How would I know?" She denied, revealing no indication that she was lying. "Maybe one of her buddies decided he liked throwing people off cliffs. It wasn't me though, if that's what you're asking. I barely managed to get home. I wasn't in much of a position to try to kill anyone."

That seemed true enough, but before he could think of anything to say, Mrs. Deetz spoke up, sounding concerned. "What about what you told me?" She asked, a bit uncertain, but forging ahead anyway. "That someone saved you?"

For an instant, Lydia tensed, then even more briefly, looked annoyed. "No one saved me," She said at last, a little dully, "Some guy just carried me most of the way home. I don't remember much of it. I was kind of blacked out."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Suddenly no one there seemed to want to even be there, and he swore he felt cold sweat coalesce on the back of his neck. Damn if this house wasn't haunted… Not that he believed in that shit. "Some guy?" He asked slowly, almost mechanically. "You don't know who he was?"

Lydia turned her gaze to him, with a look that said he was some kind of idiot. "I'd just fallen off a cliff," She said slowly, as if to a child, "I was soaking wet from the rain, half frozen, and barely conscious. There wasn't much of an introduction." Then she grinned, almost wildly, and he had to fight to suppress a shudder. "If it helps, from where I sat, he looked like hell."

That wasn't much of a description… But it did tie in with what the Brewster girl had said, about him wearing a fright mask. Maybe it wasn't a mask at all… But they couldn't just go around, arresting anyone who looked odd. "Anything else you can give me?" He sighed, getting to his feet resignedly. "Height, eye color, clothes?"

For a moment, the girl was silent, then answered, matter-of-factly. "If I wasn't for him," She said slowly, "I'd be dead. So with all due respect… I wouldn't tell you a damn thing, even if I thought it was him that did it. You want a description? Talk to Claire Brewster." This being said, she stood, indicating that she had nothing more she was willing to offer. "I gotta get dressed." She muttered, leaving them all sitting there, as she went back up the stairs.

Her mother looked after her, her brow furrowed in worry, then, oddly, glanced at the potted plant that had claimed so much of her daughter's attention. But all she said, albeit a little oddly, was "God help us all…" Before she closed her eyes.

And that was all he could get her to say.

--


	6. Lines That Are Crossed

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. Well, less so, now.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

To Beetlejuice, it was more than a little amusing, the way she'd taken her anger at him out on the poor slob below, now obviously lost for what to do. That she'd managed that overbearing, slightly scary effect, was just plain funny.

But it looked like the fun was over now, and since she'd announced her intention to get dressed, he decided to follow her, on the off chance that she wouldn't remember he was there. Just short of her room though, she held out her arm like a shot, inches from his nose, and cast a scathing look over her shoulder, apparently far more composed than she'd been right after the kiss. "Not. On. Your. Afterlife." She said between her teeth, eyes flashing.

Before he could respond to this, the Maitland saps appeared at the top of the stairs, and paused, looking at her a little oddly for the way she held her arm out. Her dark gaze transferred easily to the two of them, so cold that it seemed to take them aback. "I'm sick of talking about it," She said, her voice the same steely whisper it had been to him, "I just wanna forget, okay?" Only then did she lower her arm, and stalk into her room, leaving the three of them there, rather surprised by her behavior.

No one more than Beetlejuice, for all that he'd known her the shortest amount of time. So what, that was what had pissed her off? And here he'd thought it was him. _Near-death experiences,_ he grimaced, leaning against the wall in a small surrender of her personal space, _the living take them way too seriously._ But hell, there was no question that she'd been through a lot.

He turned his gaze to Adam Maitland, and sneered, nowhere near ready to forget his role in what had happened, apparently many years before. The look didn't last long, at the honest concern in the man's face over Lydia, and this in turn just pissed him off. Damn sentimental…

"Adam?" It was Barbara's voice, as she put a light hand on his arm. "Who… Who do you think brought her home?"

Her husband adjusted his glasses, clearly not happy. "She told you someone carried her," He said at last, clearly still thinking this through, "And that's what you told Olivia. When Olivia asked, she said the same thing again. Someone carried her." He paused for a long moment after this, before saying, "It's a long walk from the quarry, Barb."

This was clearly the last thing she wanted to hear. Her hand tightened on his upper arm, and she lowered her gaze, biting her lip. "She couldn't have called him," She said at last, her voice trembling, "She doesn't even know his name." Then, looking up, she tried to deny it again. "She'd tell us, Adam…"

_Sure Babs, keep telling yourself that._ Too irritated with the two to eavesdrop any longer, he floated back over to the stairwell, and peered down into the living room. Olivia was bidding the deputy farewell, and Lydia's father… He hadn't moved from his place on the couch, staring at his hands. Beetlejuice frowned. Now there was a man with some issues…

It bothered him, if only because he could tell the man was near breaking, and that his doing so might well be what pushed Lydia past his own reach. He'd seen guys with that look in their eyes before… "Don't do something stupid, buddy…" He muttered aloud, but very softly, "The paperwork's not worth it."

Olivia paid no mind to her husband, leaving him on the couch without a word, and heading up the stairs. Close enough for him to reach out and touch… He wasn't even tempted. She was just another stupid yuppie these days.

He watched her with half an eye as she sought out Adam and Barbara, seeking the comfort and support from them that she should have sought from her husband. She probably didn't even know he was sitting where she'd left him, going out of his mind, staring at that little metal band. Bitch still couldn't see past her own nose.

Deciding that being in the company of the three people in this world he liked the least was just plain idiotic, Beetlejuice left them there, and ventured down the stairs. His eyes were fixed on Lydia's father. He didn't even know the guy's name. "Not going to do something stupid, are you, Chuck?" He asked aloud, before he had a chance to stop himself.

The guy, whose name was most likely not Chuck, lifted his head, and looked momentarily confused. He had a pathetic, washed out look to his features, like a guy who'd just been dealt one blow too many in life, and was now running on sheer momentum. He did however, stop spinning his ring. "Is… Someone there?" He ventured hesitantly.

"I could ask you the same thing," Beetlejuice assured him, making his decision, and going visible, "Seriously, it's like the lights are on, but the bulbs are all burned out." The man's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. Beetlejuice stuck his hand out. "Hey, hi, how ya doing?"

Slowly, Lydia's father accepted his handshake, which momentarily surprised him. What also surprised him was the complete lack of fear in the man's eyes, as he did. "So you're… him." He said slowly, a bit unpracticed, as if he didn't often say much. A pause, and then, without any trace of judgment, which Beetlejuice hadn't experienced in a long time, he asked, "Did you… save my daughter?"

"Yeah, well, sweet kid…" Beetlejuice looked at him oddly. Was this guy just a few bales short of a load, or what? "Said my name, let me out… I figured, hey, why not?"

The man's eyes considered him with great intensity, almost boring into him. He realized that this guy was where Lydia got her deeply peering gaze, even if her eyes were her mother's. Then, he did something really strange. "Thank you." He said quietly.

Beetlejuice almost bared his teeth, not too pleased with being caught off guard that way. He reclaimed his hand, which the man hadn't relinquished until now, and stood, backing away from him warily. It wasn't just that he could send him back, there was something distinctly off-settling about this guy… Something he hadn't seen in many living before, and had never liked. "Yeah, whatever…" He agreed, watching him. "So I saved your daughter. So don't go off and do something stupid, that'll make you lose her again."

Something turned to steel in the man's eyes, and he rose slowly, apparently taking this as a threat. "Hey now, hold on…" Beetlejuice scowled at him, lifting his hand to stay him. "I'm not saying I'm going to do nothing… I'm telling you not to do nothing."

"I've seen a lot of guys right before they knit themselves a rope necktie, and I'm telling you, it ain't worth it. You sit behind a desk for the rest of eternity doing paperwork, and your kid? She'll just have that bitch, and the ghostly idiots to take care of her." He paused, then added, "Me too, of course. But I digress."

Lydia's father looked nothing short of surprised. "What do you care?" He asked at length, sounding genuinely puzzled.

The ghost with the most showed his teeth, in what was both a grin, and warning. "None of your business why I give a damn, just don't be stupid, and we won't have a problem." Of course that wasn't true, the guy would most certainly have a problem with him if he ever saw him panting after his daughter, but Beetlejuice wasn't really too worried about that. Like he'd told Lydia, he was going to be out for a long, long time, and there wasn't really too much this guy could do to a dead man.

From the doubt in the other man's eyes, he didn't believe it either, but for now, clearly chose not to press it. "I'm going to do something stupid," He agreed after a moment, matter-of-factly, "I'm just building up the courage to do it." With this, he turned, and looked the way Olivia had gone.

Beetlejuice couldn't quite help but grin. "Hey, if you need her to disappear…" He began, before mentally checking himself. Damn, he was trying not to get Lyds upset… He scowled, not noticing as the man turned back to him sharply. "Scratch that. I forgot, I made a _promise_…." He flicked his teeth with his tongue, to show what he thought about that. Then, belatedly, "Not for a while, anyway."

Finally noticing the expression he was getting, Beetlejuice chuckled to himself. "Keep this under your hat, Chuck." He advised him, vanishing just as easily as he'd appeared. "We don't need to go making enemies… Now do we?"

"The name's Edmond." Lydia's father corrected him. Something in him seemed different now, stronger. "And if you know anything about my daughter… You'd know I'm the least of your worries."

Despite himself, Beetlejuice laughed. It was true… The girl was going to be a handful.

But hell if it wouldn't be worth it…

--

"Olivia." He interrupted, having come to the makeshift little meeting at the top of the stairs. His wife cast him an absent glance, not even responding before she turned back to her two best friends, in this world or the next. "We need to talk." He pressed, not even getting impatient. He'd learned long ago that there was no point going that way.

"Not now, Ed," She denied tersely, looking a bit impatient herself, "We're having a bit of a problem here, in case you haven't noticed." She turned back to Barbara. "We don't have any real proof. You want to risk calling him here, just to prove he's not already?"

Without another word, Edmond took Olivia's hand in his own, drawing her attention, albeit briefly. She paused as he released her again, then seemed to realize that she was still holding something. With only a slight hesitation, she opened her hand to see. She was holding his wedding band. She looked up at him with a frown. "What is this?" She asked slowly.

"This, is a great weight off by back." He asked simply. "Not that it's something I wanted… God knows I love you, Liv…"

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you really think this is the time for this?" She asked, her voice uncharacteristically sharp towards him. "Our daughter may very well be in a lot of trouble, Ed…"

"Edmond." He corrected aloud, before he could stop himself. He hated the name Ed. Always had. "And don't pretend for a second that I don't know that. But I've got to say this now, or I won't be able to say it later."

A puzzled, helpless look crossed her face. "Why now?" She asked softly. He noticed that she didn't even question that it had to be said. "What happened?"

He thought briefly about what that… What _he_ had said downstairs, about what he'd seen when he looked at him. And the guy was right. He was about three breaths short of taking a long walk off a short dock. "It just, has to be now." He said simply, knowing he couldn't go into any more explanation than this. For Lydia's sake. For whatever reason she didn't send that guy back herself.

For a long time after this, they just stared at each other. Barbara had started to say something, but Adam had stopped her. Or maybe it had been the other way around. He didn't really care. "I've always loved you," He told his wife quietly, "And the fact is, I probably always will." A small pause, before he went on softly, saying, "But I don't think you ever felt the same way about me. You just wanted to forget. To leave the person you'd been behind you, for good."

Through all this, her eyes had been widening. She looked shocked, and certainly, her gaze denied his words. He didn't give her a chance to interrupt though, taking her hand in his again, and meeting her eyes squarely for the first time in a long time. "I'm not the guy to forget who you were with, Liv." He promised softly, unable to keep a slight tremble from his voice. "It's that girl you were, that I fell in love with."

Shock, could not have described well enough, her reaction to this. Olivia's mouth opened and closed, repeatedly, as if she honestly couldn't find anything to say. His mouth tightened, and he released her, taking a step back. "You have no idea how hard it's been," He said quietly, "Seeing my own daughter turn into the woman I lost all those years ago. I have to go, Olivia. Now. Before I lose her too."

He didn't give her a chance to answer, just turning on his heel, and walking back down the stairs. His face was hot, tears stung in his eyes… He couldn't let her see how much this destroyed him. He didn't know what he'd say to Lydia. Probably she'd think of something before he ever could.

This just wasn't his place. He wasn't needed here, he never had been. Not by Olivia. And Lydia… He couldn't look at her anymore, without remembering. Better for all of them, himself included, if he just… took a little space. He didn't think he'd ever be able to face his wife again, but his daughter? With time, maybe they could be a family again.

It was only after he left the house, and made it most of the way down the drive, that Edmond bowed his head, and cried.

--

Lydia had no idea what was happening on the other side of her door. She'd buried her head under the pillow, trying to block out anything she might be forced to overhear, with no way to know just what she'd spared herself. At least temporarily.

The last thing she was thinking about in fact, was her mother and father. She was too busy hugging her arms, sliding her fingers up and down their soft length, distinguishing the severity of each bruise by touch.

Why was she still freaking out about this? It was over, she was alive. Claire had even paid for her part in it. And she would soon repay her debt to Beetlejuice… That part didn't even really bother her. She was getting used to having him around.

_Like an old pair of shoes,_ she thought wryly, finally sitting up. _Or a stained up sweatshirt. _Her eyes narrowed as she peered around the room, trying to pinpoint him. It took much less time, this time, to do so. She was getting better at this. "So what?" She asked aloud, ready to vent a little still, "No one-liners, no inappropriate remarks?" She lifted her pillow, when he failed to respond, and threw it at him.

He caught it, and slowly because visible, watching her with an unreadable gaze. "Forgive me for trying to have a heart," He muttered, throwing it back, "Even if it isn't beating." She caught the pillow, and almost threw it back at his head. Something in his expression stopped her. He looked grim.

Then, strangely, he gave her a wide grin, and drew his legs off the floor, standing there about a foot in midair. "Oh, I get it… You want some company in that comfy little bed of yours… Why didn't you say so?" Before she could protest, he'd vanished completely, only to grasp her around the waist a moment later, stretched out beside her. He put his head squarely on her shoulder as she tried to squirm away, and smirked. "Oh yeah, I could get used to this…"

Making a little sound of irritation, Lydia managed to pull herself free of his grip, though it did mean standing up, and surrendering the bed to him. She gave him a dirty look, though her lips did curve a tiny bit in amusement, and the fact that even as he'd clung to her so stubbornly, he hadn't so much as brushed a single bruise. "I knew it…" She grumbled to herself, before sitting back down on the edge of her bed, watching him.

He offered her a slow smile, lounged carelessly on his back, his arms stretched over his head and to the side, to claim as much of her bed as he could. "Come on," He soothed, in what was surely supposed to be a seductive voice, "You know you want to."

Lydia wrinkled her nose at him, thought about turning her back in a snub, then decided that this was a guy you really never wanted to turn your back on. Instead she smiled, hoping her smile was as disarming as he seemed to think his was. "You," She offered him sweetly, "Are a dog."

Perhaps not surprisingly, he laughed, running his fingers through his messy blonde hair. "You'd be the first to put a leash on me, babes." He drawled, good-naturedly. "But I've got nothing against bondage, if that's what you have in mind…" He snapped his fingers, and suddenly her sheets were wrapped around both her wrists, in a teasing sort of grip. "Just remember," His eyebrow lifted, and his lips curled, "I get a turn too…"

Choking down what might have been either a laugh, or a sound of outrage, she shook the admittedly loose bindings, and stood again, pacing away from him. A moment later, sure enough, she felt his arms around her from behind, tightly, and the hiss of his breath on the back of her neck. Again she threw him off, and again he let her, laughing softly.

When she turned back around, his eyes were burning, and his lips curved in a smile. "Tease…" He muttered, going back to the bed. "You know you want it."

A shudder traced her spine, and she made a face at him, truthfully repulsed by the idea he found so tempting. Surely repulsed, and not at all tempted. Even if the memory of his kiss still made her lips warm and soft… "Asshole." She reminded herself, matter-of-factly. He seemed to think she was talking to him though, and looked amused, not denying it. "I thought all you wanted was out?" She said now, addressing him this time.

One eyebrow lifted, and something decidedly mischievous sparked in his eye as he opened his mouth to speak… But in the next instant, he looked truly, deeply pissed, and vanished from sight without another word.

Lydia gazed in puzzlement at the place he'd been only a moment before, then looked around the room slowly, trying to ferret out his new hiding place. Was this some new trick? But it didn't seem to be…

Beetlejuice really was gone.

--

The woman sat behind her desk, drawing on a cigarette that, like his own, never actually seemed to go out. Layers of smoke surrounded her in great heaving curtains, only multiplied by the fact that there was no window in the office, or vent to move the acrid-smelling smoke along. As he appeared in the room, he fixed eyes on her that had never been so tempted to kill a dead woman. Even Barb.

"Beetlejuice." Juno greeted him, not bothering to lift her head. "You really never learn your lesson, do you?" A flip of her fingers, and a folder appeared on her desk, several inches thick. "Do you know what this is?" She asked bluntly.

"My file?" He asked randomly, well aware that his file would probably fill several rooms.

"Your file?" She finally lifted her gaze to him, cold as stone, and just as unyielding. "Let's not even spare the time to pretend that's a possibility. This," And she gestured in a careless way, the folder opening obediently beneath her will, "Is just the paperwork you've caused me since that kid put on your ring. Five hundred, and seventy four pages. In duplicate."

With a crash considerably louder than it should have been, Juno shut the folder again, this time with her hand, and rose to her rather unimpressive height. It would have put him far beneath her if he'd been sitting, but he wasn't sitting. So she had to twist her neck to look up.

"You never learn your lesson!" She snapped again, this time without the question to it. "Do you really want to end up as sandworm bait again?" Despite himself, at this, Beetlejuice flinched. "What makes you think the contract would even be binding, if you force the girl to marry you against her will?"

Ah. Beetlejuice smiled slowly, making her narrow her eyes, and cast him a dangerous look. "And what's so damn funny?" She growled, warily.

"Nothing." He was smirking now, wiping off his sleeves in an exaggerated manner, fully pleased with himself. "Just that this little filly already said she'd marry me. She's got no problem with it. I'm not even holding anything over her head."

Juno had become increasing still as he spoke, until the cigarette she held almost dangled from her grip. Her eyes still watched him scrutinizingly, looking for any trace of a lie. "Bullshit." She finally denied, tightly. "What living woman would want anything to do with you? The dead ones don't even look at you twice!" At this, even Beetlejuice was forced to frown. "This girl," Juno slammed her hand back down on the folder, "Is just a kid!"

Again, Beetlejuice smiled slowly, reflecting on the girl's image he'd seen through the mirror. "I don't know about that…" He cackled softly, finally moving to the single chair in the room, and draping himself across it casually. Beetlejuice never just sat. He claimed things. Now the chair was his, and anyone looking, knew it. For added effect, he propped his feet up on her desk.

"She's old enough to say yes, if she wants." He went on, as if not noticing how much his actions were pissing off his former boss. "And what do you know?" He held his arms out in a helpless way, and grinned. "I asked her, and she said yes. You," And he fixed Juno with his most pleasant gaze, "Can't do a damn thing about it." And with a twist of his ankle, he sent the folder flying.

Juno's face was alive with fury, and she didn't bother answering him, just flicking her wrist with an angry sound, and banishing him back to the Maitland's. If what he said was true… Then soon, he really would be out. She cursed softly, and put her chin on her wrists glumly. Just wonderful.

--


	7. Things Become Anyone's Guess

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

Beetlejuice knew he'd been gone for a while, but he had no real way of knowing just how long. The bitch Juno could have easily sent him though a few days, as well as a world or two. He was back in Lydia's room, so the first thing he did of course, even before he'd fully appeared, was see if she was in there with him.

She was. But something was wrong. She was slumped on the edge of her bed, her head so far bowed that her hair draped her knees, which she hadn't even lifted. She was holding herself around the middle, hard, like someone had just punched her in her gut… And from the soft, shaken sounds of her breathing, she was crying.

Damn. He hated it when women cried. He scowled, a good idea what was bothering her, and well aware that even if he wanted to, there wasn't much he could do to cheer her up. Should've just kept his mouth shut… As long as the guy didn't kill himself until after the wedding, what did he care? Now he'd have to play walking on eggshells around the girl who held his afterlife in the palm of her hand…

Suddenly she stopped, growing very still. Without her looking up, without him saying a word, they both knew that she was now aware of his presence. It made him a little uneasy, how much of a grasp she had on his energy… But he just gave her his most careless grin, waiting for her to look up and see it. "Miss me that much?" He goaded. Maybe she'd make a face at him. Throw something at him. Just stop fucking crying…

Still without lifting her head, she wiped her eyes as inconspicuously as possible, then lifted her head, and forced a dumb little smile. "God Beej, you always show up when I look horrible…" She did look horrible. Though she'd never worn much makeup that he could see, her face looked caked with dark lines of it. Her eyes, puffy and red, and glistening like she wasn't quite done crying yet… But oddly, she didn't seem unhappy to see him.

He made a hissing sound between his teeth, shoved his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels. "You'd look fine, except for the shit on your face." He informed her, not realizing what he'd said until after he'd said it. _Oh hell_. Well, it wasn't like he was going to apologize…

To his utter amazement, she laughed, burying her face in her hands again, with a sound between a sob and a giggle. "You stupid jerk…" But she got to her feet anyway, grabbed what looked like a shirt off her dresser, and went to scrubbing at her face with it. When she was done, she looked up, still smiling. "Better?"

"Hell no." He denied, matter-of-factly. This time she raised both eyebrows at him, stuck out her tongue, and went back to perch like a vulture on the end of her bed. "Not that I care, but what's got you running at the eyes, anyway?"

Lydia shook her head slowly, then fell backwards on her bed, spreading her arms out to either side, and looking straight up. "I don't know." She said slowly. The sight of her like that, so unaware how tempting she looked, made him scowl. He had to be on his best behavior…

She turned a little, and looked at him, her eyes serious. "My folks split up." She said at last, softly. "I mean, it's not like I didn't know he wasn't happy…" Her lips formed a pout he would have just loved to taste. "And when I saw him this morning, he looked… Maybe not happy. But taller, somehow." This said, she sat up slowly. "So why the hell am I getting all upset?" This last, more of herself, than him. "We're probably all better off."

As he was trying to think of something to say to this, and coming to the conclusion that he should try to get her mind off her troubles by being his usual perverted self, she suddenly sat up, and gave him a long, steely look. "You were gone almost four days," She said suddenly, as if fully willing to move onto a new reason to be angry, "Where the hell were you? I didn't figure you'd be the one to get cold feet…"

"Not a chance, babes." He assured her, taking a moment to adjust to the shift in conversation. Four days? Damn it. He should be married by now. "There's just this bitch that likes keeping tabs on me… Not too nice about it, either."

Lydia's eyebrows both lifted, and then her eyes narrowed, as her lips drew up in a smirk. "I thought no one's managed to collar you before…" She purred smoothly, clearly baiting him.

He shot her a dangerous look, and she faltered, looking surprised, then hurt. It wasn't his fault. That bitch's control over him was one of his sore spots. A moment later, her eyes went dark with anger. "Well, fuck you." She told him shortly, getting to her feet, and storming out, before he could so much as blink.

Ah, shit. He frowned, sitting in midair, and drumming his fingers irritably on his knee. It had just been a joke. If he wasn't so fresh from having to deal with the controlling bitch, he could have come up with an insidious little comeback that would have turned that pretty pale face bright red.

Just as he was thinking about following her out in to the hall, invisibly of course, she suddenly stuck her head back through the door, fixing him with a look that left no doubt of just how she was feeling. "I've got enough people in the world to treat me like shit, Beej." She informed him in no uncertain terms. "If you want me to marry you, you're not going to be one of them, understand?"

A little taken aback by her no nonsense tone, and a look in her eyes that seemed older every time he looked at her, he could only frown, and nod. She glared at him for a moment more, than slowly, the expression faded, and she looked no more than slightly annoyed. "Okay then." She then looked a little lost, as if she hadn't thought out what to do now. Maybe hadn't expected him to agree.

After a moment more, still without seeming to think of anything more to say, she came back in the room, closing the door behind her. Giving them privacy. She picked up the shirt she'd used before, and started squirting lotion on it, before returning to scrub at her face with renewed vigor. The smell drifted to him where he sat. Some sort of vanilla. He wondered if she'd taste like vanilla, rolling the temptation to see for himself over in his mind.

Lydia brought him out of his reverie, even as he reached the half-point between them, fully intending to carry out his little experiment. "What did Juno have to say, anyway?" The words, so casually spoken, sent a shot of ice down his spine, and squelched any idea of making her squirm.

When he didn't answer, she turned back around, noticed his new position only a few feet away, and faltered, just for a breath. Seeing her hesitation left him feeling a bit more himself again. "Those yuppies bother keeping any secrets of the afterlife from you?" He asked, deciding to keep his distance, for now. Truthfully no longer in the mood for games.

She continued staring at him for a moment, a lost look in her eyes. He snapped his fingers, and she startled, looking up like she'd forgotten he was there. It was a moment more before his question made sense. "Oh… Why would they?"

Beetlejuice grimaced. Sure, why would they? Secrets of life and death, kept since time began, all spilled in the ear of this little goth girl from the time she could stand. Not that he had a problem with it, but he was amazed Juno hadn't flipped on them. _Always picking on me…_ He mused, feeling a stab of irritation. What he'd done was nothing compared to those two!

"No reason." He said aloud, well aware that he sounded sarcastic, and in fact, was. He took a moment more to take in the fact that her face was now clean. And smelled damn good. Most of her bruises had also faded pretty well, save for a few stubborn yellow splotches that didn't want to fade. "You're looking better." He added, letting his gaze linger at her neckline. "How long was I gone again?

"Four days." She didn't seem as uncomfortable under his gaze anymore, but still shifted a little awkwardly. She didn't say anything about his current interest of choice though. "Mostly I'm okay… I still feel like I've got bruises down to the bone, but at least I don't look like I stepped out of a horror movie anymore." She paused, then glanced at him with a slightly fiendish smile. "No offense." She added sweetly.

Girl loved keeping him under her thumb… They'd see how long that lasted. He just smiled casually at her comment, then, as if it were of no great interest, noted, "Everyone looks good at the beginning of the movie, sweet cheeks."

This gave her pause, and she looked back at him, trying to figure out exactly what he meant by that. He knew himself that it meant a few things… Let her wonder. "It's late," He said at last, showing his teeth again, "You've got a wedding tomorrow. And a wedding night."

Her eyes narrowed, and she started to say something, but by this point he didn't even want to hear it. She could get under his nerves like no one's business, and they weren't even married yet.

So whatever it was she had to say, he left her saying it to thin air.

--

Damn him. Damn her for being glad to see him, even worrying when he'd been gone. Why the hell did she care? For that matter, why did she? She pursed her lips, ramming the dirty clothes deeper into the washer, and spinning the little button that would make it go. He was a pervert. He was a jerk. He was probably crazy.

_I'm probably crazy_… She'd always heard about girls that fell for real assholes, repeatedly sometimes, and never understood it. But hell, she wasn't falling for him, was she? A shudder traced her spine, and she actually looked back to see if he'd done it, a scathing warning on her tongue. She knew at the same time that he wasn't there. She just wanted to blame him.

_Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, and he's out of my life forever, _she thought grimly. Tempted, for a moment. The washer kicked to life beneath her hands, the humming dancing through her fingertips. And now he was planning a wedding night? He was in for a surprise… This was business, nothing more. She paid her debt, he got out. Then the hell with him.

That didn't explain her desire to hit something, or the lurching, gravity defying feeling somewhere in her stomach. Running her fingers through her long hair, she blew a breath skyward, a strangled sigh, and closed her eyes. Who could she even talk to about this? Not her family… She had no friends. Unless she counted Beetlejuice, and really, he was the problem.

She was halfway up the stairs from the basement, when it hit her somewhere around the chest, like an invisible hand. Actually making her stagger. _I'm getting married tomorrow_… She almost said it out loud. That would have been tough to explain. Letting her breath out slowly, she wondered again why she was doing this. He'd never leave her alone, once it was over.

_But then, maybe that's why I'm doing this…_ She quickly pushed that thought away. Hell no. No way. Just the thought made her want to hit something again. Then, just as abruptly, it made her want to run to the bathroom, grab onto the toilet bowl with both hands, and hold on for dear life.

She waited a full five breaths before she emerged from the stairwell, certain she'd run into someone with some kind of comment on how haggard she looked. Sure enough, Barbara looked up as she entered, surprised to see her. "I thought you were asleep, Lydia?" She murmured in concern.

"Can't sleep." The girl muttered, suddenly eager to run from the room at all speeds. Instead she drew her hand over her face, honestly exhausted. "Jeez, if my mind would just stop for two minutes…"

Barbara's expression turned sympathetic, and she steered Lydia over to a chair. "I'll make you some hot chocolate." She offered gently, turning to the fridge. "I was about to put some on anyway."

There was silence for a while after that, Barbara keeping herself busy, Lydia staring off at nothing at all, when something finally occurred to the goth girl. She glanced over quizzically, considering her strangely silent friend. "Why aren't you sleeping?" She pressed slowly.

The ghost's hand stilled in mid-motion, and then she turned back around slowly, wiping her palms on the front of her dress. "You wouldn't think I'd notice," She said at length, almost hesitantly, "As quiet as he was. But it feels, wrong, with your father gone." She shook her head slowly. "I just feel like I should have seen this coming… Should have done something to stop it."

Lydia considered her foster mother for a long moment, then sighed. Yeah, she should have seen it coming. Lydia sure as hell did. But if she was this upset over someone she'd never even really got all that close to, what would happen tomorrow? Going through the whole thing again, like she had with Lydia's mother… But with a very different ending this time. There would be no last minute sandworm at her wedding.

It'd probably be best to say nothing at all, and logically, she knew that. It was just that lately, logic had very little say over what she did and didn't do anymore. "You're just used to him being here," She said quietly, with just a trace of bitterness, "It's not like you really miss him. More like, a piece of furniture's gone, that you got used to."

Barbara stared at her, open mouthed in shock, for at least a minute before she could speak. "Now you know that's not true, Lydia…" She protested.

"Isn't it?" Lydia challenged, lifting her gaze to her. She wasn't sure where all this anger was suddenly coming from. But she had wanted to punch something, and from the look on her face, that's what she'd just done to Barbara. "Dad never really fit in here. It was just you, Adam, and mom. That's the way everyone liked it. When I showed up, sure, I was let in the little club. But dad?" She shook her head slowly, frustrated. "Most of the time, you three didn't even know he existed."

Her friend had gone very quiet, and then, softly, gave a sound something like a sob. Lydia looked up in surprise to see tears in the ghost woman's eyes. "It wasn't that we didn't try, Lydia," She whispered, looking deeply shaken, "God, we tried…"

Shame and guilt welled up from some deep pit in Lydia's stomach, and she gritted her teeth, suddenly wanting to look anywhere but into Barbara's hurt-filled eyes. "Forget it," She said softly, trying futilely to mend the unfair words, however true, "I'm just pissed at the world right now, Barb. It's got nothing to do with you."

A long, long pause, and then quietly, "I don't think that's true." A pause, a sniff, and more softly, "God, I wish it could be true…"

Then there was that awkward silence, when she felt like she should be comforting Barb, when by all rights, she was the one that deserved comforting now. So she just stared at the tabletop, a tight grimace on her lips, trying to pretend she hadn't just betrayed her best friend in the world. Damn it, she'd apologized, it wasn't like she could take the words back! Especially when they were true!

And then Barbara had come up behind her, and was hugging her, pressing her face into the top of Lydia's hair. For a brief moment, the girl wondered if ghosts could cry real tears, because she swore she could feel them, wet and heavy, against her scalp. She was soft, remarkably soft, the way a mother should be, and strangely, warm. "I'm so sorry, Lydia." She whispered.

Of course this brought a lump to Lydia's throat, and the next thing she knew, she was fighting off tears too. "Is that, hot chocolate done?" She whispered, her voice a rasp. Anything to change the subject.

"Oh!" Barbara drew back from her with a gasp, and raced to the stove, twisting off the burner. A distinct smell of burning wafted through the air, unnoticed until now. The ghost woman gave a small, strangled laugh. "Good to know I can still manage to ruin something as simple as hot chocolate!" She joked, though to Lydia's knowledge, she'd never burned anything before in her afterlife.

They drank after that. It tasted, well, burned, but the warmth was good, and hell, chocolate was always good. There were even little marshmallows. Lydia actually found herself smiling into her cup. When the drink was done, she found Barbara smiling at her too. "Thanks for letting me vent." Lydia whispered, standing, and giving the woman another little hug.

"Anytime, honey." Barbara whispered back. "And don't worry… I have a feeling tomorrow will be better."

Lydia just, didn't have the heart to correct her.

--

_I'm getting married today_. These were her first thoughts upon opening her eyes, not for a moment not remembering exactly what had happened the night before. This was followed immediately by… _Hell, how is planning to do this?_ Witnesses, the Maitland's had said. Who?

Slowly she rose, surprised for a moment that he hadn't decided to crawl into bed with her. Well, it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding… She thanked her blessings for this small reprieve, and took her time getting up, stumbling a bit in the residual blurriness of sleep.

By one means or another, she found herself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, and gave herself a long, measured look at her reflection. God, she'd aged this past… what, a week? She felt like she was looking at someone she barely knew, someone who'd been through hell and back, and wouldn't think twice about doing it again. When had her eyes become so…?

Startling as the door swung open more, she found herself face to face with her mother. The last person she wanted to be face to face with. "Oh." Something about the older woman too, had changed. She was, distant. Vague. "I thought… The door was open." Without further explanation, she turned, and left. Lydia wondered for a moment if she was taking his leaving hardest of all of them. She couldn't figure why she would. They hadn't even really been friends…

Lydia pursed her lips, and looked in the mirror again, before running cold water, and splashing herself fully in the face, as if doing her best to banish the image. Her stomach was killing her, no way she wanted breakfast. But that tacky feeling on her tongue had to go.

Teeth brushed, she wandered downstairs in her own time, not in any real hurry to face her family, or the promises the day offered. Everyone was already seated at the table, a sort of grim heaviness weighing over the whole room. They each looked up when she entered, Barbara's smile was the least strained. Her mother didn't even try.

"Morning." She greeted them, a note of forced cheer to her tone that kind of turned her stomach. It took her a minute in fact, before she could offer any more than this. "Anything interesting happen while I was asleep?"

Her parents shuffled, giving noncommittal answers. She supposed that was probably for the best. "Do you have any plans today, dear?" Barb prompted, ever the one to try to make things seem as normal as possible.

Lydia almost choked on her drink, then cast the woman a slightly mad smile, and shook her head. Set back a little, Barbara frowned, but didn't press it. _Thank god_. She opened her mouth to follow this with some witty observation, but of course, as happens when it's actually required to work, her brain stalled. She closed her mouth again.

_It's like someone died_… She thought, with an ironic twist of her lips. Finally, she thought of something to say. "I think I'm going out for a while."

Instantly every eye there was on her again. Adam cleared his throat, looking worried. "Are you sure that's wise?" He asked at last, ever the father figure. "It's only been a week since the accident…"

She couldn't stand that he called it, 'the accident.' Maybe the falling had been an accident, but not the rest. Lydia just smiled, and shook her head, ignoring that irritation for now. "I need a new… pair of shoes." She was really just improving now, though it was true. "I kind of, really messed up my last pair." She made a face, to show what she meant by that.

Adam nodded, but it was her mother who spoke. "I'll drive you into town…" She began, only to freeze, eyes growing wide, as every dish on the table began shaking. Her gaze turned slowly, desperately, to her ghost friends. "Guys?" She whispered, just as cupboards began flying open, and silverware made its way with great flash from every drawer.

"Not us." Barbara whispered. Lydia just rested her chin on her fists, resigned to Beetlejuice making an entrance, and wondering what the hell he was thinking. They were just going to try to stop this… "Adam, I think…"

The lights went out. Which took some doing, as it was broad daylight, and every curtain in the house had to swing shut at once, to make the effect. By now of course, there was no question. Lydia bit the knuckle of her right hand, and closed her eyes, briefly. Now, now he made a flashy entrance… "Ah well." She muttered aloud, causing her mother's eyes, at least, to flick to her for an instant, before growing wide in understanding.

Out of nowhere, they appeared, long snaking cords that looked and smelled like they'd been at the bottom of a swamp, for possibly several years. All three of her parents were bound in place in their chairs, which then slid dramatically to the side, the table upending itself completely, food going in all directions.

Lydia rose, as much as anything, to get out of the way. She hadn't been touched. "Damn it…" She whispered to herself, instinctively twisting his ring with her thumb.

"Beetlejui-!" Lydia blinked, and looked at her mother, who had broken off very quickly. No more question in her mind who was behind this then… All three of them though, were quite securely gagged by this point, with… She really hoped those weren't dirty socks.

She twisted with fury in her eyes, fixing her gaze on the doorway she suddenly knew he'd enter through. "Beej!" She cursed him, not caring now who knew. "Damn it!"

He stepped into the soft halo provided by a half dozen suddenly burning candles, a wide grin on his face, dressed in a garishly hideous green suit. "Hey babes," He greeted her calmly, as if he had not just given her family their worst nightmare come to life… again, "It's show-time."

--

She was pissed. Really pissed. But Beetlejuice was still smiling, because given the chance he'd denied the others, she still used her pet name for him. He cocked his head at her, chuckled, and offered his arm. "Come on, babes. Let's not keep the minister waiting."

Lydia opened her mouth to say something, paused, turned to look at her family, then back at him. "Revenge, much?" She muttered. But she did come towards him. Of her own will.

"What, me?" He gave her his most honest face, which come to think of, he never had managed to pull off worth a shit. "Nah, no way, nuh-uh…" With a twist of his fingers behind his back, he gave Barbara's rope an extra hard twist. "Wouldn't dream of it, Lyds. Cross my heart." And he smiled to show his sincerity.

"You are so full of shit." She informed him, but with a sigh this time, obviously already less annoyed. "I'm not surprised it comes out every time you open your mouth."

Frowning, he gave her a long, even look, then raised his hand, and twitched his finger at her. She crossed the rest of the distance between them in a breath, and with a small gasp. "Mind your manners, babes." He scolded, not really annoyed. In far too good a mood to be annoyed. "You don't want your folks to get the wrong idea about us."

Lydia turned her eyes to said folks, and got a brief, pained look on her face. When she opened her eyes again, she looked down at herself with something of a start. He knew he'd get a use out of that dress… But amazingly, her eyes flicked up to him with true fury now. "I am not wearing the dress," She hissed between her teeth, "That you tried to marry my mother in!"

Despite himself, he frowned again. What, she'd wear the ring, but not the dress? He forced a smirk, not really feeling it as much, and waved his hand again. This time she was veiled in a halo of gray and black, like a thousand spider webs draped across her, leaving just enough to the imagination. Well, he'd planned on her wearing that tonight, but…

He was caught off guard by the soft look that swept her face, utter gentleness and awe, and nothing at all like the hard ass she was trying so desperately to be. "Oh, Beej…" She whispered, breathless. "It's so beautiful…" She gathered up the skirts in her hand, and did a little spin, before coming to a stop, and smiling at him beautifully. If he'd had a pulse, it might have skipped a beat.

Clearing his throat, he turned, and with another wave of his arm, the floor began moving. Up rose a platform from an opening that cracked across the wood, and behind it, the same minister that had botched the job the last time. Beetlejuice cursed to himself, hoping she didn't have a problem with that too.

Wait though… Hell, how would she know?

His grin restored, he marched confidently up to the podium, and gave a mocking little wave. "Hey, hi, how ya doing?" The empty eyed little creature on the other side regarded him without expression. "Got a good one this time!" He added, pointing to the woman by his side.

Lydia made a small sound of irritation, but when he raised an eyebrow at her, she just smiled sweetly. A little too sweetly. It made him want to take a double check for sandworms.

"We are gathered here today…" The ugly thing began, paying no mind at all to the human and ghosts gagged and bound behind them. It was all gravy until the point where he asked Lydia if she took him, blah, blah, blah… For the first time, Beetlejuice felt a stab of alarm. This was where it had started to go wrong last time, after all.

A glance at Lydia proved her to be taking a deep breath, and pointedly looking anywhere but at the 'witnesses' to their little ceremony. "Damn." She said at last, sounding somewhere between resigned and amused. "Sure, whatever. I do."

For an instant, Beetlejuice thought his feet weren't touching the floor. Damn, why'd she have to go and look so sexy when she was humoring him? He barely heard the next part, but this time, didn't go through any theatrics. "Yes, yes, YES!" He hissed impatiently, wanting to just hurry and get this over with.

There was quite a bit of protest behind them at the whole, 'speak now or forever hold your peace,' bit, but since none of them could actually speak, there wasn't a frigging thing they could do. He grinned, quite satisfied with his part in that.

"You may kiss the bride."

What? Wait, he'd missed man and wife? Ah, who the hell cared? He grabbed Lydia around the wrist, gave her his most devilish grin, and swept her into a very deep kiss. This time, not only didn't she protest, but she actually returned it, with a heat that took his breath away. Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn…

Then, for reasons he didn't understand, just as his hands reached her waist, she pulled away, fixing him with a flat smile. He stared, not understanding, and reached for her again. She stepped away, her smile growing sweet, and a little cold. "We're married, Beej." She purred. "That was the deal. _Just_ that."

The words fell on his ears, and for an instant, he honestly didn't understand them. God, she looked so hot… He started to reach for her again, and this time, she simply stepped away, before turning to look at him again, this time with no trace of a smile on her face. If anything, she looked… what? Sad? "It's over, Beej." She whispered. "We're even. You can do whatever you want, now."

Whatever he wanted? Hell, there was only one thing he wanted to do right now… And he was starting to get the idea that she didn't share in his plans. Fury crossed his face, lust, and then… coldness. Damn. She'd played him like a…. a… Hell, what did it matter? She'd played him.

Well the joke was on her. He was out. That was all he'd ever really wanted, anyway. He gave her a look of pure evil, and felt no satisfaction when she wilted beneath that gaze, just a little. "Fucking tease." He muttered, this time with no trace of affection to his voice.

"I wouldn't press it if I were you, Beetlejuice." He almost flinched, unconsciously, at the mention of his name, before turning to face Juno. When the hell had she gotten here? She watched him through narrowed eyes, if anything, even angrier than he was. "You have the devil's own luck, Beetlejuice." She informed him, matter-of-factly. "But sooner or later, he's going to come back for it."

But now Beetlejuice was grinning, a genuine grin. Who gave a shit about that little bitch? And Juno? Let her say his name as many times as she wanted. It had no power over him anymore.

He was _out._

_--_


	8. A Peace Offering

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

He was pissed. Seriously pissed. It was more than a little scary. He turned back to her, and grinned, a fire in his eyes that made her feel cold, somewhere in her middle. "A deal's a deal." He agreed silkily, making no further move towards her. "But don't think this is over, babes." There was something utterly chilling in the way he said this. For perhaps the first time, Lydia truly questioned what she'd done.

Beetlejuice ran his fingers through his hair, which was still messy and matted, but now revealed no traces of mold or death. His eyes no longer carried the heavy circles of the dead, and his skin, though still pale, carried a very subtle flush of life. The changes were there, small, but there. He still couldn't be mistaken for anyone but himself. But he seemed pleased.

Instead of leaving straight away, he crossed the room, back to her mother, and Lydia felt her first true pang of fear. Oh god, what was he going to do now?

But all he did was straightened his bowtie, grin at her with every tooth, and nod, in a terse fashion, before spinning on his heel, and heading for the door. "I'm just getting started!" He cackled, something decidedly dangerous to his voice, which had been lacking for some time now. "The B-man is back!"

With a snap of his fingers, he was gone, apparently not surrendering his powers merely for the small taste of life he had now. Lydia felt a decided tightness in her chest, and wondered if she'd forgotten to breathe. Her heart was pounding a million miles a minute, and her eyes felt oddly out of focus. For a second, she thought she was going to faint.

"Well, you did it now, girlie." The voice of someone else there, ungagged, able to speak calmly, felt like the trickle of her sanity returning. She turned, almost puzzled, to see the woman that had to be Juno standing there, looking at her like she was some kind of idiot. "What exactly did you think you'd accomplish by letting him out? I'll tell you," She went on, not giving the girl a chance to answer, "You didn't think."

Pacing away without another glance at any present, she muttered under her breath until she was lost in wisps of smoke, somewhere far beyond where the far wall should be. Leaving Lydia alone with her still bound family.

She looked at them, feeling belatedly… what, guilty? It made her stomach turn, whatever it was. She started fishing for a serrated knife among the silverware all across the floor, before pausing, and giving the still present minister a decidedly cold look. She would have sworn the dead man blanched, and in moments, the room was the way it had been before, sans cracked floor. Still a mess.

Lydia pulled the gags from their mouths before she started cutting them free, but oddly, though every one gave her a pained look, not one said a word. She hated the quiet. Why the hell didn't they yell at her, something? It was like some kind of stupid game that had gone way out of control…

Once Barbara was free, she started cutting Adam loose, and Lydia turned to her mother. She swore she'd never seen the woman look so pale. She wouldn't even meet her eyes.

Only when the last of them was standing amid the piles of food and broken plates, did anyone give any kind of reaction. No surprise that it was Barb, sweeping her up in a tight hug, no trace of anger in her gentle touch. "Oh sweetie," She whispered, sounding truly afraid, "What have you done?"

And with this, the first sob tried to rip past Lydia's throat. "He saved my life." She explained, brokenly, her face buried in Barbara's mounds of curls. "He saved you two. I wouldn't even have you, if he hadn't…"

"That's enough." It was Olivia speaking now, and every eye there turned to her. She looked furious, and somehow broken, as if she'd been betrayed. She was actually shaking. "Go to your room." She whispered, clearly fighting to control her temper.

Lydia didn't know what to say to this. She'd married the woman's greatest fear, and now she was grounded? It felt a little surreal. "Mom…" She tried, not really sure what she was going to say after this.

She didn't even realize that her mother had crossed the distance between them, until she felt a resounding strike to her cheek, almost knocking her backwards. She wasn't the only one who stared at the woman in horror. Never, never had her mother lifted her hand against her… "You stupid, spoiled little brat." Her mother whispered, tears glinting in her eyes. "I told you to go to your room."

"Liv..." Adam started to protest, only to be cut off as the woman spun on him sharply, looking furious.

"She isn't your daughter!" She cried, stunning all of them there into silence. "God damn it, don't pretend you know what I'm going through!" To this, no one said a word. Olivia had never questioned their roles as parents before, every bit as much as herself… There was a distinct feeling of raw wounds in the air, and betrayal. And from the look in her eyes, she wasn't about to take it back.

Lydia gritted her teeth, unable to stand by a moment more, and say nothing. "They're all you have left, mom." She reminded her tightly, making her mother spin, and narrow her eyes at her. "You already chased dad off… Try not to lose them too."

Before anything further could be said, she spun on her heel, and raced from the room, climbing the stairs so quickly that she stumbled. Her mom wanted her in her room? Fine, she'd go to her room! She slammed the door shut behind her, strode across the floor, and grasped her dresser wildly in both hands. With a wrench, a broken sound, and the grinding of wood against wood, it gave way.

She'd be in her room all right, but she didn't want anyone else in there with her. After the dresser, she struggled to move her four poster bed against the door too, and failing, finally collapsed against it, shaking. She didn't cry. She'd cried way too much this last week. But she buried her face in her hands, unwilling to face the world beyond them, and trembled.

"Beetlejuice…" The word whispered past her lips like a plea, the first time she'd said his name since freeing him. She didn't know why she called for him now… They were even, by her words. So why did it feel like he was the only one who'd give a damn about what she was feeling now?

No, he didn't give a damn about her… It was all just a game. He'd won. She'd lost.

And now she was alone.

--

Ghosts didn't really need to use the door, when they were given enough reason. Barb sat on the side of Lydia's bed, which had somehow been dragged halfway across the floor, and looked at her sleeping 'daughter' with a tightness in her chest. Everything was wrong. Everything was broken. And Lydia… Poor Lydia had to bear the brunt of it all.

It wasn't right, how beautiful she looked in the dress he'd given her. She hadn't taken it off. Hours had passed since the wedding, and she hadn't taken it off. Olivia was gone, no one knew where. Adam? She'd never seen Adam like this. No one could have expected their living friend to strike out at them like this, but he was taking it especially hard. They were family. An unorthodox family… But family.

Lydia didn't look like she was having troubled dreams. In fact, her expression was oddly peaceful. Perhaps more so than Barbara had seen her in a while. She looked like she'd lived through too much, too fast, and her friend swore she saw the first traces of lines between her eyebrows.

_God, Lydia_… She hadn't been able to protect her. Not from what had happened in the quarry, not from him… She felt so utterly helpless. All she could do was sit in this damn house, and try to be ready for what happened next. It was the first time in a long time, she'd truly felt the limitations of being dead.

The girl shifted in her sleep, and then surprisingly, rose on her hands, not yet opening her eyes. Barbara couldn't tell if she was truly awake yet or not, but then she turned her face towards the woman, and squinted. And incredibly, smiled. "Damn, can't keep you out of my room, can I?" She moved slowly, one limb at a time, as if she'd forgotten how to work them together, and gradually moved herself into a sitting position. "What time is it?"

"About three." She noted Lydia frowned at this. She didn't seem horrified yet, shocked, scared. Maybe she thought it was just a dream? In the next moment though, she was looking down at herself, her dress, an appraising look in her eyes, and Barb knew she remembered. "Are you okay?" She prompted gently.

Lydia lifted her eyes to her, a briefly puzzled look to them, then sighed. "Yeah," She said after a long moment, "I'm okay." She tugged on a loose piece of hair that had fallen over her face, then tucked it neatly behind her ear. "Has…" She hesitated, then looked to Barbara again. "Has he come back?"

Grateful for this at least, Barbara shook her head. "I've stayed with you while you slept," She said softly, "I wanted to make sure he didn't…" And here she broke off. She couldn't bear to finish that thought. "I wouldn't let him hurt you." She promised softly instead, "I wouldn't."

A pained look crossed Lydia's features, and she turned deliberately away. Barbara thought she was just scared, until her next words. "Do you really think he'd do that?" The question was sort of halting, but what she said next, facing her again, came out much stronger. "Do you really even know him?"

Taken aback, Barb looked at her with a frown. "You're his wife," She said at last, "You don't think he's just…"

"I'm his wife," Lydia agreed, none of the reservation to the words that Barbara would have expected, "That doesn't mean that he owns me! It doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants to me…"

Barbara just stared at her, surprised and saddened by how innocent Lydia was, that she could say something like that. And with such certainty? Beetlejuice wouldn't hesitate to… But Lydia interrupted her before she could even finish the thought, saying firmly, "Beej would never hurt me, Barbara. I know he wouldn't. He's a jerk, but…"

_Beej?_ The woman looked at her in surprise, and then slowly, an unwelcome thought came to the front of her mind. Lydia talked about him like she knew him, like she cared about him… Like she actually believed he could care about her. _Him._ "Lydia," She whispered, shaken, frightened, "Do you love him?"

Lydia flinched, visibly, and her eyes widened in denial. But there was doubt there, somewhere, Barb was sure of it. "Beej is my friend." She said at last, twisting her hands into the blankets. "That's all."

After a moment, Barb rose, and looked down at her worriedly. "He didn't act like much of a friend today." She whispered, well aware that Beetlejuice thought of the pretty goth girl before her as anything but a friend. Not the way he'd reached for her. Not with that look in his eyes.

This time Lydia turned away, narrowing her eyes just perceptibly before she did. "You would have tried to stop him." She denied, dully. "He just wanted out."

For a moment, at this, Barbara shook her head, well aware that the gesture was lost on the other. "I didn't mean to us, Lydia." She said at last, quietly. And to this, Lydia offered no response at all. Barbara closed her eyes, suddenly very tired. It couldn't be true. It couldn't, but Lydia…? _Was_ she in love with him?

_Oh, Lydia…_

--

It was interesting to be just another face in the crowd. Not that he blended that well, since he still got the occasional odd stare, but then, he'd never really cared that much about blending in. He walked along, whistling to himself, feeling in control for the first time in a long time, and greatly enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. God, he'd forgotten what it felt like to be warm…

Not that he was exactly happy with the way things turned out. The whistle died on his lips as he thought of her, then twisted into something annoyed. Damn. What was it with these little goth girls, that they kept getting the better of him? Just a little charade, lead him on, let him think he could have her…

"Bitch." He muttered aloud. A passing child looked up at him with big eyes for the forbidden word, and he bared his teeth at him. The child quickly hurried on.

It pissed him off, it pissed him off to no end, because he'd never _wanted _a woman as much as he wanted that little brat. And here he'd thought she was his for the taking… Well, he wasn't letting it go that easy. No way. He sneered at no one at all. She was his. Nothing was going to change that.

He came to a stop in front of a little out of place shop, decorated with cloth bats and fake spider webs. It took him a minute to figure out what it was doing there, and then he grinned, truly amused. Hallo-fucking-ween. How the hell had he missed that? He snorted at the idea of the living dressing up as the dead. Idiots.

But he went into the store anyway, on impulse. It might be good for a few laughs, to see what people thought was scary these days. Now, in his day, he'd seen truly terrifying things… Hell, he was a truly terrifying thing. And from the looks more than a few people had given him so far that day, that hadn't changed all that much.

Actually, he had no problem with that.

Much to his disgust, most of the costumes were modeled after comic book characters, or movie stars. Wasn't the whole idea of Halloween to dress up as something frightening enough to scare the dead away? He lifted a feathered mask with one finger, and made a disgusted sound. Oh yeah. _Real _scary.

Truth be told, as he discovered after only a few minutes of perusing, there wasn't anything worth shit in the little store. As he was leaving though, he stopped in front of a gumball machine, eyeing the contents with mild interest. _Well, would you look at that?_ He sneered, and reached through the plastic with ease, plucking the hollow little egg free. Damned if he'd pay a quarter for that piece of shit…

Back in the street, he turned the plastic egg over and over between his fingers, already bored with his brief diversion, his thoughts turning back to Lydia. He'd go see her tonight. The thought made his lips curl in a smirk. Wouldn't she be surprised…?

He was yanked abruptly from his reverie at the sight of a familiar face, and he frowned, turning this over, trying to place it. The kid looked scared, real scared, like the last place she wanted to be was on the street. Kept looking over her shoulder, like she expected to see a…

A slow, delighted smile crept across his face, wickedness dancing in his unholy green eyes. _Her_. Well hell, he'd said he wasn't finished with her, right? Even after all the shit that goth-girl had put him through, he was still willing to crack a few heads on her behalf. She could pay him back later…

It was so simple, it was almost a little disappointing. Able to walk up to her in broad daylight like this, no longer restricted to the rules of the dead. Just had to be careful not to let her see him… And that he could do in his sleep. In less than a minute, he was standing right behind her, a wide, pleased grin on his face. Shit, she smelled like hairspray and some kind of orange, lemony… ech.

He rocked on his toes, grinning, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to turn around. This was fun, more fun than it should be. She was such a insignificant pest… But she chose that moment to look over her shoulder again, and when she saw him, her eyes seemed to grow wider than humanly possible. Her jaw dropped. She did not however, make a sound.

Beetlejuice pulled one of his hands out, and curled his fingers at her in a mocking little wave. "Hey, hi." He greeted her, nonchalantly. "How ya doing?" He raised his eyebrows a little, then cruelly, "Remember me?"

Then, before she could scream, they were both just gone.

--

It was dark. He hadn't come back yet. But he would, soon. She was sure of it. Then what? Lydia bit her lip, for the life of her, she didn't know. She gathered the sides of her dress of in either hand, giving them a little spin. She hadn't taken it off yet. This of course, did not please the Maitland's. Her mother would have had a fit. Of course, her mother hadn't come home.

Humming a little under her breath, she stood in front of the full-length mirror she'd appropriated from the living room, set in the corner of her room where her bed had been. She hadn't been able to move the damn thing back… She spun, again and again, until she was dizzy. The candlelight danced off the threads of silver and gray, inset with ribbons of black velvet. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

Her feet stepped lightly, moving in a pattern that meant nothing at all, and she swept her dress around and around, lost in her solitary little dance. Ebb and sway, twirl and spin… She thought she'd never looked more beautiful in her life.

"Your dance card full?" A sudden voice interjected. She spun, hoping wildly, and almost stumbled over her feet in disappointment when she saw Adam. Damn, she hoped he didn't see that…

She smiled at him, and lifted her hand, sweeping down in the best curtsy she knew how to do. She almost fell at the attempt, but he smiled, kind enough not to say anything. "You know," He said softly, accepting her grasp, "You do make a beautiful bride, sweetheart." A pause, then, matter-of-factly, "Better than he deserves."

Lydia smiled, shaking her head. She didn't feel like she was married. It felt like some kind of weird, twisted up dream. Like she'd eaten too much before she fell asleep. "It's a beautiful dress," She countered, trying not to be embarrassed by the compliment, "I still look awful."

Lifting an eyebrow, Adam considered her, then spun her around in a complete circle, before speaking again. "You really are clueless, aren't you?" He asked aloud, sort of rhetorically. "Do you have any idea just what a beautiful young woman you've become, Lydia?" She eyed him dubiously, and his face grew stern. "I'm serious!"

All she could do was make a face, and after a moment, put her feet on top of his, the way she'd done when she was very small. She expected him to protest, but he just smiled, and danced for both of them. Like she was really still so light… "If I'm so beautiful," She challenged, fixing him with a calculating eye, "Why is Beej the only guy who's ever wanted anything to do with me?"

Adam frowned, considering this. "You've never been a teenage boy, have you?" He asked at last. She eyed him oddly, and he shook his head. "Never mind," He sighed, shaking his head, "Just take my word for it. You're beautiful Lydia, and I know people notice."

"Like who?" She challenged, intrigued now.

"Like…" His head rolled back, and he glanced helplessly at the ceiling. "Like Deputy Garin. And he's almost ten years older than you. But Lydia, his eyes just about popped out of his head when he saw you…"

Lydia blushed, but wasn't ready to accept this. "I looked like hell…" She muttered aloud, secretly wondering if he was right.

He considered her, his lips trying not to smile. "He would have asked you out in a second, if you were a couple of years older." He assured her, in a tone that brooked no argument. "And god knows I'd rather have him for a son-in-law…" Then he paused, grimacing, as he seemed to realize what he'd just said. "Oh hell… There's no way he's coming for Christmas dinner!"

Unable to help it, Lydia broke out giggling, until he was forced to hold her up. How could Adam and Barb be so perfect? They even took all this in stride… "Can you imagine if he'd asked for your blessing?" She gulped, trying not to hiccup.

Adam's face became very stern. "I wouldn't have given it." He assured her, more seriously than he'd been a moment before. "I told you, he doesn't deserve you." He paused a moment, then went on severely, saying, "I swear, if he lays one hand on you…"

"You'll what?" The poltergeist sneered, having chosen that moment to make his presence known. Adam released Lydia in an instant, starting towards the other with fury in his eyes. But Beetlejuice barely had to lift his hand, and a chair appeared, knocking his legs out from under him, and spinning him out of the room. "Sorry poindexter, newlyweds have to talk."

The door slammed, and without so much as lifting an eyebrow, her bed rose from the place it had been in the middle of the room, swept through the air, and ended up sideways against her door. Lydia could only stare, wondering how that could be enough to keep other ghosts out. Beetlejuice though, saw her expression, and smirked. I assure you," He said softly, watching her through smoldering eyes, "I've made sure."

"We won't be disturbed."

--

He couldn't read the look she was giving him. Fear? Hell, she had reason to be scared! His amused smile died after only seconds, and he glared at her, truly pissed. "Did you think that was it?" He asked softly, coldly. "You just say you're done with me, and I disappear out of your life forever?"

Lydia shook her head slowly, something heavy veiling her eyes. "No," She said slowly, "Not you." She gathered the fabric of her dress up in her fists, and took a step back… Then forward. Then just stood there, looking helpless. "You said you just wanted out…" She said at last, as if this were any real excuse. "But you looked like you wanted to break me in half, after."

Frowning, he considered her at length. Wasn't she scared? Damn, maybe he was losing his touch… "What the hell did you expect?" He grumbled, her lack of terror making him lose his momentum. "String a guy along, then tell him, 'sorry, it was just business?'" His nostrils flared. He swore he could smell her from there. His fingers twitched with an itch to touch her.

Her eyes narrowed, and she took a step away, then back again. Again. Like she couldn't decide whether to run from him, or throw herself into his arms. "I said I'd marry you, because you saved me." She pointed out, clearly trying to be the voice of reason here. "Why the hell would I jump in bed with you too?"

Beetlejuice paused for thought, then gave her his most disarming smile. "Because I'm just that damn sexy?" He prompted. Damn, it was like he couldn't be mad at her. He was of course, he was pissed to no end… But here he was, smiling at her, all the same. He swore her gaze softened, but it could have been his imagination. "You need more of an excuse? How about this? We're married."

Frowning, Lydia shook her head. "You just married me because you wanted out," She said slowly, as if this somehow changed the fact, "Not because you thought we'd make a great couple. I was just the best you could do on short notice."

Was she kidding? He held his arms out to his sides, slightly, and gave her a long look. "Short notice?" He echoed, sneering. "You got any idea how long I've been dead, babes?" Her gaze didn't change in the least. She was serious then? Did this little number actually not realize how fucking hot she was?

He decided to change the subject. "Here," He muttered, reaching into his pocket, and retrieving the plastic egg, "I got you a wedding present." Somehow, most of the irritation had gone out of his voice, even before he tossed it to her. "Congratulations, and all that."

Lydia considered him with a long, puzzled look, then popped the egg open, and removed the slender plastic cord inside. Dangling on the cheap black thing was an even cheaper looking black spider. She held it between thumb and forefinger for a moment. He held back his sneer, expecting her to say something about it. Daring her to.

Instead, as he watched in disbelief, she untied the ends, and turned her back to him. "Would you?" She asked softly, draping it around her throat.

His smile died. He'd been expecting some sort of smartass comment… Now the girl was acting like she actually liked it! Eyes narrowed in suspicion, he crossed the distance between them, and took the ends of the necklace obediently. She lifted her hair out of the way, exposing the creamy pillar of her throat, and despite himself, he gave a little shudder. Was she trying to drive him fucking crazy?

Without laying a finger on the soft white skin, he tied the piece of shit together, and stepped back, staring at her with a deadpan expression. As she turned back around, her face slightly flushed, almost like he'd tried something, she avoided his eyes. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to try to strangle me with it." She noted, almost under her breath.

"It occurred to me, babes." He assured her coldly. She fidgeted a little at this, then lifted her gaze, and met his again. Damn. His stomach was going all warm on him. He deliberately put some distance between them, never taking his eyes off her. "You're a fucking tease." He told her at length, flatly.

Her eyes darkened, not with anger this time. With something he couldn't read. "And you're an asshole." She muttered, as if more to herself than him. "Why the hell are you so interested in me, anyway? The world's full of women. Lots of fish in the sea. All that." She considered him with an almost angry expression. "You're not restricted to who can see you anymore."

What the hell was she talking about? Was this little girl serious? He bared his teeth at her. "I know what I want," He informed her softly, evenly, "And I don't see any point in fishing around, when I've already got a hot little number in the bottom of my boat!" With this, he crossed the distance between them, quickly, angrily. He grasped her by the chin, while she could only look up at him with wide eyes, surprised, frightened. "Just 'cause you say it's done," He hissed, leaning real close, "Doesn't mean I say it's done."

Lydia swallowed, hard, and her eyes didn't grow any smaller, even when he released her, and stepped back away. There was something in her gaze that hadn't been there before, and it wasn't fear. Maybe she looked confused. Maybe she just finally believed him. She shook her head though, still doing her best to deny it. "You're crazy." She whispered at last.

At this, he just grinned. "Then you're married to a crazy man," He pointed out, grasping her by the arm, and drawing her hard against him, "And that's not going to change anytime soon, so I suggest you get used to it." Then, though she must have expected him to force another kiss, he just dropped his lips to her forehead in a delicate brush, before pushing her away hard enough to fall back against the bed.

"Take your time." He grinned, as she struggled to straighten up, and glared at him in something like fury again. Good. Good, enough with this soppy sentiment. "I'll be waiting." She was just a kid after all. Maybe she really was scared. Hey, he was scary.

But he'd come back. Again, and again, and again… Sooner or later, she'd figure out he wasn't going anywhere. Then, she was his.

--

--

--

I wish I was happier with this, but I'm not. I kind of feel like I've botched this chapter good. I hate getting to this part in a story... Trying to match what I've written, and judging my work against a tougher and tougher scale...

I'll go grumble somewhere else now...


	9. A Betrayal

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

Lydia found herself staring at a classroom full of girls, every one of which looked shocked to see her standing there. More than a few of which looked just plain scared. Somehow, she felt like she should be getting more enjoyment out of this than she was… She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and without a further glance at any of them, took the only available desk, at the front of the class. It was only then that the whispers began.

Miss Shannon looked up at the disturbance to her sanctuary, and frowned, gazing around the room for a full minute before her eyes landed on Lydia, the object of everyone's attention. "Ah, Ms Deetz." She greeted her, a bit more hesitation to her voice than Lydia had ever heard before, "I didn't expect to see you back at class quite so quickly… Your mother informed me of your accident."

Frowning at it being called that again, Lydia spared the woman only the briefest of glances, before drawing a sheet of clean paper free of her bag, and fishing for a pen. The woman seemed quite nonplussed at the normally obedient girl's clear dismissal, and after a moment, walked over to her desk, to discuss this further. Lydia did her best to ignore her, but the woman hovered like some sort of dark cloud, and smelled like dental fixture.

Pausing amid the vague features she sketched, she looked up with a frown, to see the woman staring at her quite fixedly. "Now," She began, hesitated, then pressed on, saying, "I realize you've been through a great deal Miss Deetz, but I expect things to return to normal around here."

Normal? Things would never be normal again. She drew a long, savage slash for his mouth, and narrowed her eyes at the rough rendering. It needed a bit of shade… She put her pencil in her mouth, and started rummaging for a pen. When she found eyeliner, she used that instead. And all the while, Miss Shannon stared at her, completely at a loss.

"Well!" She snapped at last, clearly losing her patience for whatever trauma Lydia had been through, "I see you're still wearing that ring I told you to take off!" Her arms folded about her middle as she said this, visibly taking a stand against this disobedience. "Remove it at once!"

A small, twisted smile, played about Lydia's lips, and she lifted her head, just enough for the woman to see it. "I released the devil from his den to get this ring," She murmured aloud, before lifting her dark eyes to the woman, "There's no way in hell I'm taking it off." Then, even as the woman blanched at this blatant disrespect, she added, almost nonchalantly, "Besides. It's my wedding band. That has to be an exception to the rules, right?"

Miss Shannon's mouth opened and closed, repeatedly, before she finally hissed through her teeth, "You expect me to believe that you're married, young lady?"

Lydia's lips twitched, in that same small smile, before she challenged easily, "I expect that you can't prove that I'm not." And before the other could draw in a deep enough breath to release the outburst surely building, she added, "Call my mother. Ask her. She was there."

This, effectively, stopped anything the woman had to say about that. And it was a moment before she could think of anything else. "And that… trinket?" She demanded, addressing the plastic bauble around her neck.

Lydia's fingers went to it, absently. "A wedding gift from the groom." She answered, in such a matter-of-fact way that once again, it left Miss Shannon speechless. "He picked it out himself… I think he'd be kind of pissed if I took it off."

The woman's lips worked in something of a fury, before softly, almost faintly, she whispered, "Ms Deetz! Language!" But this however, was all she said, apparently because she had no strength left. At least so it seemed from the way she stumbled back to her desk.

Lydia considered her drawing as Miss Shannon gathered her nerves. She'd decided to make it of him in his tux, on impulse. Maybe because he'd still been wearing it when she'd seen him the night before. She used her thumb to blur the harsh strokes around his eyes, and somehow, this made him look almost… gentle. Yeah, right.

She was still hard at work on her rendering, when Miss Shannon began taking the day's attendance. She continued without fail, up until she called Claire Brewster's name. At this, even Lydia looked up with interest, as no one responded. Claire wasn't there? It made her want to snort, she hadn't even fallen down a cliff… The girl sure was milking this for all it was worth. Funny she hadn't noticed her absence when she came in though…

Blowing on the picture lightly to shoo away any residual graphite shavings, Lydia cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes scrutinously. It looked like him… And it didn't. It made him look scary enough, but something there was somehow, softer too. Like he was lost in thought, as he gazed from the page.

Making a face, she almost crumpled her failure, then paused, and folded it neatly instead. She'd show Barb when she got home. They'd have a good laugh.

Her eyes traveled unerringly to the clock on the wall, though school had just begun. She had a lot more patience when it came to a lot of things, but she suspected already that school wasn't going to be one of them. Distractedly, she drew out another sheaf of paper, and began drawing again. She'd get him right, this time…

--

When the school bell rang, Lydia emerged from her self-imposed seclusion, into a surprising, and unwelcome bubble of instant popularity. Suddenly everyone wanted to talk to her, she was _cool_. They wanted to touch her, to make eye contact. Their comments ran the gimlet from 'Whoa, I can't believe you survived… That is so cool!' to the far less complimentary, 'Guess next time you should find a higher cliff to jump off of, huh?'

Lydia did her best to ignore them all, but it felt like she had bodies closing in on her from all sides, hands reaching, grasping… It made her shudder in her skin, as she tried to throw them off. Finally she stopped, glared at any and everyone within glaring distance, and hissed furiously, "Leave me the hell alone!"

This received a sudden shocked silence, before one and all, they once more seemed to come to a unanimous decision about her. One girl actually said it aloud, giving her a long, scathing look. "Bitch." The weird part was, Lydia was sure that she was one of the girls from the quarry…

Turning back around, she was surprised to see her father at the far end of the sidewalk, watching her, and smiling. He looked honestly amused by the way she'd set them all so soundly in their place. "Hey, sweetheart." He greeted her, as she approached him warily, ready for something else to fall out from under her. "I was just in the neighborhood, so… Well," He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I only live about two blocks away now…" He waved randomly down the street.

Had her mom told him about Beetlejuice yet? Lydia studied her father's face, but honestly couldn't tell. He looked too calm to have recently found out that his only daughter had just married a dead man though. "You want to get something to eat?" She prompted at last, hoping this was what he'd been waiting for. "I could kill some French toast about now."

His face lit up, and she knew she'd been right. "That little diner on the corner, by the park?" He asked hopefully. "We used to go there all the time when you were little… God, I haven't been there in years." Then, seeming to realize what he'd just said, he pursed his lips, and cast her a small glance. "Honey," He said softly, "Why haven't we been there in years?"

"Because mom thought it was grungy." She answered honestly, making him wince a little. "God knows I loved it…" She stepped up beside him, and slid her hand in his. "Come on, we'll walk. You could use the fresh air."

Her father cast her a pained little half smile. "I thought I was supposed to be your parent…" He muttered to himself, before staring ahead again, and falling silent. They walked in this heavy sense of things unsaid for a while after that, before he asked softly, "Lydia? Are you mad at me?"

Mad at him? God, she was afraid he was going to disown her… "Mm-mm." She shook her head, forcing a small smile. Of course the fact that it was forced wouldn't be lost on him… "I think, things are better this way. I mean, you weren't happy." A pause, then words that she knew would hurt, but were still true. "I mean, you didn't even really talk to me anymore."

He shot her an almost desperate glance. "It wasn't your fault, honey…" He pleaded, only to be cut off by a short shake of her head.

"Yeah, I know. Mom and me, we're going through our own stuff right now." She deliberately chose to be vague about just what 'stuff.'

"Well." He didn't seem certain what to say to this, and cast his eyes ahead again, looking for the right words. "I hope you're not taking all of this out on your mother. It's not entirely her fault either." Lies, they both knew. At least lies in Lydia's eyes. Her mother had treated him like shit. Did she really think he'd just keep taking it forever?

"Mom's got her own reasons to be pissed at me." She admitted at length, carefully. "I kind of, went and did something she really didn't like, and…" And of course here, her words failed her. "Anyway, I think she's more mad at me than at you."

"She just worries about you…" He began, only to be cut off by a short glance from her, this time decidedly more frustrated. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this now." He offered, hoping to mollify her. From the relief in her eyes, he'd done the right thing.

The rest of the walk to the diner was pretty pleasant, and very quiet. There was an awkwardness in the air, both with things they felt they should say, and didn't want to just yet, but Lydia didn't mind. There was something in her father that she hadn't seen in a long time, a strength to his step that had been lacking… And she swore, when she looked up at him, that she saw an absent little half smile very similar to her own.

_God, this is going to kill him…_ She shook her head, and did her level best not to think about it.

They got a booth in the corner, the same one they'd always gotten when she was little, and she smiled to see the scars she'd once made with her fork, still visible in the table. It felt, kind of like coming home. She looked up with a smile as the waitress served them almost immediately, though it faltered as she saw that it was someone she didn't know. "French toast," She said softly, somewhat disappointed, "Lots of syrup."

Her father ordered eggs and bacon. Breakfast at lunch was one of their favorite traditions at this place, where you could order it at midnight if you wanted to. She ran her fingers over the scars on the table again, smiling at the memory. "We grounded you for that, if I remember correctly." Her father interjected, making her look up in surprise. Her eyes were, a little more warm now. "You couldn't get cake for breakfast, and…" He gestured vaguely.

"The rest is history." She whispered, more to herself, than him. "Dad," She didn't know why she was gripped with the need to tell him this now, when she'd just finished deciding to put it off for as long as possible, "I'd still be your little girl, even if I grew up and got married, right?"

He fixed her with an odd little glance. "Of course." He said at last, lifting an eyebrow after a moment, when she didn't immediately go on. "Why, have you gotten any offers?" Lydia winced, and opened her mouth to answer, when abruptly he lifted his hand, looking pained. "Lydia." His expression was suddenly very serious. "Your mother already told me."

Dumbfounded, Lydia could only stare at her father, open mouthed, before she thought to close it again. "She told you," She whispered, shaking her head, "So why aren't you mad at me too?"

Her dad's eyes glazed, looking off at some point she couldn't see. "I always knew that I'd hate whoever took my baby away from me." He said at last, before turning his eyes back to her. "I got used to it. It doesn't really make a difference to me what he is…" He leaned forward on his elbows a little bit, and added softly, "You've never been like other girls. You're _my_ little girl." Then, straightening slowly, "If this makes you happy… Well, you're not the first girl who's fallen for the guy that saved her life."

It left her speechless, the utterly unhorrible way he was taking this. Then his words hit her, and she thought about correcting him. In the end, she decided not to. If that was what made him feel better, who was she to take it away? Instead she just smiled. "Dad, you're the best." She whispered thickly.

He lifted a hand, an embarrassed look growing across his face. "Just don't compare me to Adam Maitland," He said matter-of-factly, "And I'll do just fine." She wanted to laugh, but wasn't sure if he was kidding, and didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Then he grinned, and she groaned, before breaking out in giggles. "Dad…"

--

This town seemed to be going straight to hell. And he remembered when it had been a nice place to live… The kind of place nothing bad happened. So what the hell was this? He sat down in the gaudy red booth without a look in either direction, folded his hands, and sighed. Girls nearly getting killed every day now…

"Coffee." He said flatly, when a shadow fell over him. "Black." That was about as much as he had to offer at the moment, by way of conversation. Of course, the Deetz girl was the only lead he had… And just remembering her dark gaze made him flinch. No way she was going to tell him anything. He could take her downtown, question her, it didn't matter. Probably didn't know anything anyway, just like she'd said.

The steam of hot, dark liquid, and a comforting smell. He breathed it in like elixir, and finally spared a smile at his waitress. She didn't notice, already moving on to other customers. It had been different when he was a kid. Seemed more tight-knit then. These days, he saw more and more people he didn't even know. When had that happened?

Lifting his cup, he blew across the dangerous looking surface slowly, his eyes scanning the room… And pausing in surprise as he saw the very girl he'd been thinking of, just a moment before. _Hell_, he thought, getting resignedly to his feet, _no harm asking_…

He made his way to the table, where the girl's father saw him first, and offered a terse nod. He didn't look happy to see him. Lydia looked up next, her eyes widening briefly in surprise, and just as quickly, looking wary. If the two of them didn't have anything to hide, why did they act like they did? "Mind if I join you?" He asked pleasantly.

The man, Edmond was his name, he thought, shrugged, and turned his attention to his milkshake. Garin slid in beside him, and gave the girl his most charming smile. Something about her eyes widened, just slightly again, and then quickly she looked away. He was pretty certain that she blushed.

Well. Damn. He couldn't complain about that. With her bruises healed, and her hair swept up to show off her delicate features, she was even prettier than when he'd seen her last. And that outfit… He cleared his throat indelicately, and looked away. _There should be a law against school girl uniforms_, he thought wryly to himself.

"Is there something you wanted?" It was, unsurprisingly, the girl speaking, still looking anywhere but at him. "I mean, this isn't a social call, right?"

_Not since you can't possibly be eighteen yet…_ He took hold of his coffee with both hands, cleared his throat yet again, and tried to remember why he'd thought this was a good idea. "Seems your friend Claire Brewster's having a pretty bad week." He noted at last, finally taking a sip of the bitter liquid. And burning himself.

Cursing silently, he drew it away to see her watching him, a puzzled look to her eye. Briefly unguarded. "She wasn't in school today…" She said slowly, as if only now finding that strange. "Did something happen to her?"

_Hmm_. He frowned. Maybe she wasn't in on it. "That fellow in a fright mask," He said slowly, noting as her eyes immediately narrowed, "He attacked your friend again. She was locked in the out-of-town transit station over the weekend." He paused, then slowly, "Gets pretty cold, with no heat. But more than that," He considered her flatly, "She was scared. Real scared."

Lydia let her breath out slowly, looking more than anything, annoyed. "Well, she's not my friend." She grumbled at last, turning back into her stack of French toast. "What do I care what happens to her?"

Deputy Garin frowned, not believing she was really as heartless as she was letting on. "This guy is stalking her," He reminded her flatly, making her twitch, "And I don't think he's going to stop. I don't know why he gets his kicks out of scaring kids, but…"

At this point, her father made a small sound, to draw his attention, and he looked over to him expectantly. "I really need to go now, hon." He murmured to his daughter, apologetically. Garin wondered for the first time if this guy, suddenly so eager to leave, might be the one he was looking for. It was his daughter who'd been attacked, after all.

The man folded his napkin, drew out a twenty, and set it on the table. His daughter watched him without emotion, a look to her eyes that said she knew she wouldn't be getting off that easily. He gave her an apologetic glance, then turned back to the deputy, who'd moved aside for him. "I'm really sorry, I have to meet with my lawyer in a few minutes. We have papers to…"

And at this he paused, looked pained, and deliberately looked anywhere but at his daughter. "I have to go." He finished weakly, clearly looking for permission to flee.

"Go ahead, dad." Lydia drew a lazy circle in her syrup with her fork, something in her smile confident that she could handle whatever the officer threw at her. "I'll head home after he says what he has to say. No worries."

Smiling tightly, Edmond left them, clearly in a hurry to be anywhere else. "Papers?" Garin prompted, turning back to the girl.

"My dad decided to split." She informed him easily, as if there were nothing particularly upsetting about this. "I guess he's going to serve her with divorce papers. Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten all weird, just now."

"Oh." This left him briefly uncomfortable, but he tried to push through it. "I'm sorry. It seems like so much is happening to you…" Her eyes flicked up to his, mildly interested, and then she smiled. It seemed genuine, and briefly left him speechless. "Are you all right?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "What's not to be all right? It's not like he's going anywhere. And they were just weird whenever they were around each other, so…" She took a bite, chewing absently. "Anyway, how is she?"

He stared at her, confused. "Who?" He prompted, then abruptly remembered, and shook his head. "Oh, she's… Being treated for stress. Mild shock. Severe chill… Her parents are furious. They want something done."

Lydia pursed her lips in a little moue. "Good luck with that." She said softly. Then, apparently realizing that this was a strange thing to say, she lifted her head, and added, "I mean, the guy wearing a mask and all." She gave a vague gesture with her fork hand. "It being almost Halloween."

He tapped his index finger on the tabletop, frowning. "Yeah…" He agreed slowly. "That makes it harder." He tried to think of something to keep the conversation going, suddenly certain she had nothing to offer him, but equally unwilling to just walk away. He settled for sipping his coffee.

Across from him, the girl was getting more comfortable. She didn't seem to mind his presence anymore, and he would swear, she watched him from the corner of her eye. It made him straighten up just a little, and smile behind his cup, though he quickly banished it as he reminded himself that this was just a kid. "So, what?" She prompted suddenly, surprising him, "You're the only deputy in town? 'Cause you're kind of young…"

"Mm? Oh, no, I'm actually one of several…" He was sure he felt her eyes inspecting him, years older than the rest of her, and stared pointedly at his cup. "A junior deputy, to be honest. I'm, years away from making senior deputy."

"Huh." Her eyes lidded, and she leaned back in the booth, considering him at some length. "You know," She said, again suddenly, and somewhat out of the blue, "My mom said you were checking me out the other day. Is that true?"

Garin almost choked on his coffee. Wiping his chin, he felt like he was the kid here, and this girl, years beyond him. "Ah, no, of course not." He denied quickly, managing a smile. "Don't spread that around though, okay? Rumors like that could cost me my job."

Her eyes continued to search his, and suddenly, that illusion of maturity was gone, and she looked remarkably innocent, and shy. "You were…" She denied slowly, as if this were somehow strange. "I don't believe it, that's so weird." She shook her head, as he sat there without anything to say, his mind racing. God, she probably thought he was a pervert…

Then she lifted her eyes to him, and smiled, a smile that made her glow. "Thanks." She said softly, which was quite possibly the oddest thing she could have said. "Here I figured only weird guys would even give me a second glance." She seemed quite pleased with the fact that he had though, which presumably, did not number him amongst these 'weird guys.'

"If you were a few years older…" He admitted softly, a little breathlessly, then shook his head, and put on a tight smile. "Just call me when you're eighteen, okay?"

--

_Call me when you're eighteen, okay?_ It stunned her briefly, the simple, normal way he said this. Not getting all grabby, not leering at her like she was a piece of steak, and offering some stupid one-liner in an attempt to make her blush… It was so _normal_, and so sweet.

What was she thinking? She was married… "Yeah," She said softly, laying her hand briefly over his, "I don't think that's going to happen." But as she would have pulled her grasp back away, he put his other hand on top, staying it. She tensed, uncertain what he was doing, but quite sure that she should pull away. Instead she just stared at their hands together.

"I mean it," He said softly, his voice a little tight, "If you wanna call me…" His throat bobbed a little, and then he got this look on his face, like he knew he was doing something wrong. He closed his eyes briefly, and shook his head. "I'm sorry." His voice was just a rasp. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" He started to draw his hand away.

Not fast enough. She saw _him_ come in, looking pleased at punch with the world, only for his eyes to immediately fall on her, and the guy holding her hand. She yanked away from the deputy like she'd been burned, stomach lurching in panic. Still Beetlejuice continued to stare. "Shit." She whispered, very, very softly. "Oh shit."

"What?" Deputy Garin started to turn, to see no doubt, what it was that had suddenly turned her so pale. Beetlejuice of course, gave him no time. With a snap of his fingers, hell descended on the dinner.

Lydia covered her head, instinctively ducking, as every piece of glass, light bulbs included, shattered instantly, showering glistening shards everywhere. "Holy shit!" The deputy yelled, covering his head as well, and looking around in utter shock. "What the hell was that?"

Before she could reply, though she really had no explanation to give, gravity had lost all control over that little section of the town. Plates, silverware, and above all, broken glass, rose into the air with a hideous wail, and began spiraling in dizzying, dangerous patterns around the room. An insane moan, like nothing that could come from a human voice, filled the air, as patterns of shadow and light flickered madly across the walls, drawing images of some demonic thing they couldn't see.

"What the hell?" Garin was yelling it now, and he wasn't the only one. Lydia slid without a word beneath the table, only to be followed by the sound of metal heaving, grating, and giving way. Then, with a flip, as if it weighed nothing at all, the table was torn out of the floor, thrown end over end across the room, and embedded halfway through the opposite wall.

Someone was yelling at everyone to get out of there, it might have been the deputy, but Lydia sat there on her knees, staring up at the tantrum Beej was throwing, with wide eyes. Her heart pounded like some thick metal drum in her chest, and her eyes blurred, trying to keep up with it all.

"Lydia!" Garin was reaching for her, grabbing her hand, pulling her to her feet. Pulling her _against_ him. "Come on, we've got to get-"

Of course, it was exactly the wrong thing for him to do. He was hit by a chair in the center of his back, thrown several feet, and lay there, looking dizzy and stunned. No one else was in the diner anymore. As she watched, blood flowed from several cuts across the deputy's face. Razor sharp glass spun, dazzlingly through the air.

"Beej…" Her voice was hoarse, but she did her best to raise it to a shout. "Please, don't do this!" No answer, though she swore a face formed amidst the worst of the storm. Garin was on his feet again, trying to reach her, buffeted on all sides by debris. She hadn't been touched once, a calm in the eye of the storm, but clearly he didn't see this. "Get out!" She screamed at him. "Run!"

"Not without you!" His hand grasped her surely around the wrist, and he tried to drag her forward again, only to be stopped by a sparkling wall of death, inlaid with spinning, dancing steak knives. He looked widely around for something, anything to defend them with. He grabbed for a chair, only to have it spin away from his hand.

He turned his face towards the dangerous wall before them, and got a steely look in his eye. "I'm getting you out of here," He said matter-of-factly, grabbing her again, and pulling her tightly against him. "Hide your face! Don't look!"

His intentions clear, Lydia screamed, and pulled away from him with all her strength, wrenching her shoulder in the process. He turned back to her with a desperate eye. "What are you doing?" He yelled, reaching for her again.

Lydia scuttled back on all fours, doing anything she could to keep away from him, and certainly, Beetlejuice was only too happy to help. She was afraid the ghost was going to kill him… "Beej!" She cried out again, "Stop this, please!" The whining and spinning just grew to a more threatening crescendo, and finally she did the only thing she could think of, throwing her hands up to hide her face, and screaming, "Beetlejuice! You're scaring me!"

Everything fell out of the air at once, dropping straight to the ground, never minding its momentum. Utter, deathly silence followed. Slowly, Lydia looked up, to see Deputy Garin obviously the worse for wear, but alive. "Come on," he whispered, staggering towards her again, arm outstretched, "We've got to get out of here while we can…"

An arm appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the man, and throwing him most of the way across the room. "Keep the hell away from her!" Beetlejuice growled, not pausing a minute, but advancing on him even as he fell. Lydia tried to get to her feet, and found herself suddenly, securely tucked into a chair, unable to lift her arms.

Beetlejuice grabbed the man by the throat with one hand, lifting him so far off the floor that his feet dangled, and fixed him with a look of pure evil. With his free hand, he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and scowling, slowly reached out with it, and ground the butt out less than an inch from his face. "Keep your _fucking _hands," He hissed throatily, "Off my goddamn wife!"

Then he opened his hand, dropping him like so much garbage, and turned back to Lydia, his eyes shining with fury. She could only stare, horrified by what he was capable of. "You," He grunted, gaze cold as death, "I'll talk to later." And just like that, even as Garin struggled to his feet, eyes locked on the man, he was gone.

Able to move again, Lydia stood, shakily. She wasn't so much as scratched. Through all that, he hadn't laid a finger on her. Garin on the other hand, clearly needed a doctor. But the real damage didn't seem to be to his body, as he stared at her with something like terrified revulsion, stumbling away faster than she could approach him. "Garin," She whispered, trying not to show that she wasn't as shaken as he was, "Are you-"

"Stay away!" It came out as sort of a choked gasp, and he pointed at her shakily, eyes fixed with terrified fanaticism on the girl who'd escaped it all unscathed. "Stay the hell away from me!" Still falling over his feet, he turned, and ran from the diner as fast as he could, never once looking back.

Lydia stood there, uselessly, helplessly. Angry, sick, scared. How could he? How _could _he? _Damn_ him! She sank to her knees, still not so much as nicking herself on the debris that was everywhere, and closed her eyes. It was just too much… Just because she'd been holding his goddamn hand!

_Beej…_

She was still kneeling there when people dared to peek back in, and found to their shock, her, utterly undamaged amongst the ravaged diner. Barely a hair out of place. She didn't want to look at any of them, and after a long, held breath, got to her feet, and just walked past them all. So many eyes, staring. She tried to keep her face down, to not let them recognize her. They all stared. But it was Deputy Garin's eyes that stopped her. Terrified. Filled with hate.

Turning on her heels, Lydia ran.

_--_

--

--

Okay guys, I won't complain about my writing... ;P But ironically, the best writing I did today, was still for a few chapters away. So you'll have to wait. Now I better post this, before I start second guessing myself again...

By the way? I think there's only about four chapters left. Just so you know. Not that it's set in stone or anything.


	10. Hell Hath No Fury

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

"Yes…" She hissed aloud, something strangling her voice so much that she barely recognized it as her own. "As a matter of fact, my daughter _was_ telling the truth." A brief pause for the other to speak, during which time her eyebrows flew up, then pressed down, in an angry line. "No, as a matter of fact, I did not give her permission. But if she wants to wear the damn ring in class, that's really the least of my problems right now!"

With this, she slammed the phone down on the receiver, hard even to crack the plastic joint holding it to the wall. The entire phone fell to the floor with a crack, but Olivia didn't give it so much as a second glance. The front door had just opened. That meant Lydia was home.

Still very ready to vent her anger, Olivia came out of the kitchen to see her daughter running up the stairs, a blur of dark colors. "Lydia!" She yelled furiously, starting after her. "I can't believe you're actually telling people about that… that _thing_! Do you have any idea…?"

Her daughter spun on her, halfway up the stairs, and fixed her with a look of pure rage and desperation. "Leave me the hell alone!" She cried, making the woman take a back step. Never before had her daughter talked to her this way before… "I'm having a hard enough day without having to listen to your bullshit too!"

Olivia's breath hissed in through her teeth, and she was about to reply, when she reminded herself just what her daughter had gotten herself into. Who knew what had happened today? So she gritted her teeth, and took a step back, going against every instinct to strike now, when it would clearly hurt most. Damn her. This was all her fault anyway… She expected sympathy now too?

Lydia grabbed for the door of her bedroom, and shoved it, hard, but the heavy wooden frame refused to budge. She froze for a moment in disbelief, then twisted the knob harder, and pushed again. Still nothing.

Spinning around with a near-fanatical look in her eyes, her gaze passed up and down the hall for no more than three seconds, before coming to a rest not five feet from her mother. "Goddamn it, Beetlejuice!" She snapped, making her mother flinch at the unwelcome name. "Let me in my fucking room!"

He appeared, almost casually, as if well aware she'd know where he was the whole time, and bared his teeth, in nothing like a smile. He drew in a deep breath of smoke, cast it out between his sharp teeth, and hissed, "Make me, babes."

For a long moment, they just stood there, staring daggers at each other, before Lydia threw her hands up, and headed down the hall instead, towards the bathroom. No sooner had she reached it, than this door too, slammed shut in her face. Beetlejuice didn't laugh, the look on his face was pure bitterness, but he still considered her with that ever present smirk.

Lydia turned on him again, this time slowly, her eyes flashing in emotions that passed them too quickly for her mother to read. She meanwhile, was taking several slow steps back, looking from one to the other with an utterly baffled gaze. Her daughter seemed to have no fear at all of the man who'd haunted her own nightmares for many years. In fact, at the moment, she looked ready to strangle him with her bare hands.

The standoff drew out again, until Olivia cleared her throat, feeling as out of her depths as anything. "Lydia?" She prompted, not liking the helpless feeling that gripped her whenever _he_ was around, as he now seemed more determined than ever to be. "What happened?"

"What happened?" A mad little half smile flashed across her face, and she gave a choked little laugh. "What happened was that Mr. Big and Bad here walked in on Deputy Garin holding my hand, and threw the mother of all fucking fits!" She advanced a step on him, and his eyes, much to Olivia's shock, actually grew wary. "Never mind that all the guy said was to call him when I was eighteen. Never mind that _I'd_ just said that wasn't going to happen. Forget the fact that he was about to fucking let go anyway…"

At this point she seemed to run out of breath, and just glowered at him, until even the mighty Beetlejuice looked like he wanted to squirm. "You fucking lunatic!" She growled, both hands curled into fists. "You fucking _bastard_!"

"Prove it." He snapped back, though even his voice sounded a little hoarse. "Prove there wasn't something going on between you back there!"

Her eyes, if anything, went more wild. "Prove it?" She echoed, her voice dropping to little more than a whisper. "You practically pick the goddamn building off its foundation, shake it up, and drop it… In front of all those fucking _people_… And you think I've got a damn thing to prove to you?"

She closed her eyes at this point, a massive shudder ripping through her, then turned on her heel, marched right past her mother, and left them both there. Beetlejuice didn't hesitate a second in following her, which moved him right past the place where Olivia stood. Doing her level best to sink into the wall, Olivia did all she could not to let him touch her, but he didn't even spare her a glance.

"Lyds!" He was yelling back at her, still pissed off enough for both of them. "You wanna know what you've got to prove to me…?"

Olivia stood there, silently, in shock, and shaking, as the sounds of the fight moved down the hall, and into the kitchen. Her mouth was dry, her head was spinning… When had she lost control over her own house? Who the hell was this girl that looked like her daughter, and stared the devil in the eye without flinching?

Slowly her hand sought the rail, some protective instinct telling her to follow them down the stairs, to do what she could for her daughter, even while every other grain of common sense she had, told her to hide until this was over.

A sound of breaking glass. She reached the kitchen just in time to see Lydia throwing another half empty glass at Beetlejuice's head, only to have him lift one finger in an almost absent dismissal, and have the projectile veer off to the side at the last moment. He didn't so much as flinch, as it shattered against the wall, not two feet away. Olivia on the other hand, most certainly did.

"You're supposed to be alive now, you son-of-a-bitch!" Lydia was roaring, throwing two more glasses and a plate, none of which hit him, before collapsing against the counter in apparent exhaustion, just glaring. "So stop fucking haunting me…" She muttered, almost under her breath. "Just leave me the hell alone, okay?"

"Leave you the hell alone?" His face contorted, into something so far from human that even Lydia took a step back. It couldn't have helped that, through it, he was smiling. "Fine! You win! Happy now?" He took a step back, and waved his arm. Even as he vanished, his last words floated across them, no less furious. "I'll leave you the _hell_ alone, babes!"

Lydia glared at the spot where he'd been, something in her features seeming, if anything, even angrier, now that he was gone. "So that's it?" She whispered, clearly to herself. "Fine. See the fuck if I care." But obviously she did care. She cared so much that she was shaking.

She turned, and picked up another glass. Olivia flinched, expecting her to throw it, but she just walked to the sink, and drew herself some water. _Her throat has to be sore from all that screaming…_ Olivia reflected, before realizing that it was now just the two of them. As her mother, surely she was expected to say something…

"Lydia," She prompted, trying to sound gentle, and still sounding largely annoyed, "Is everything…?" She broke off then. Was everything what? Was everything all right? No, clearly everything was not all right… "I warned you, you know." She hated how empty her own voice sounded. "I warned you, and you didn't listen." What the hell was she saying? This wasn't helping anything! She opened her mouth to try again…

"Honey!" It was Barbara's cry, utterly shaken and scared for the girl, as she swept into the room, gathering Lydia up in both arms. "We couldn't get out of the attic! My god, are you all right?" And of course, when Barbara Maitland said it, it sounded like exactly the right thing to say. "Did he hurt you?" Adam, behind her, was positively glowering with rage and protectiveness, as he looked on.

And Lydia? Lydia accepted a comfort that Olivia didn't know how to offer. From the woman who had once offered her the same, in her own mother's stead. Olivia looked anywhere else. After a moment, she reached for the broom, intending to sweep up the mess, only to have Adam take it gently from her grasp. "I'll get that," He said quietly, "Lydia needs you right now."

But of course, Lydia didn't need her, did she? Olivia's lips thinned, and again she tried to find the right thing to say. "I'm just glad that you're safe." She said at last, reaching over, and squeezing her daughter's hand. Lydia looked at her like she didn't even know her. Once more, then. "I thought things would be a lot worse…"

Lydia drew from Barbara's arms, and fixed her mother with a steely look. "What, so now you care?" She asked coldly. Despite herself, Olivia flinched, and after a moment, her daughter's eyes softened. "Sorry," She mumbled, looking away, "I didn't mean that." Only of course, she had.

Her mother shook her head, slowly, trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong. What she'd done to drive her only daughter into that creature's arms. It had to be her fault. She couldn't blame Edmond. She certainly couldn't blame Adam and Barbara. "I just don't know what to do…" She heard herself saying aloud, and almost winced at the defeated tone in her own voice.

"You don't have to do anything, mom." Lydia assured her, putting her hand on the older woman's shoulder. "It's my problem, I'll take care of it." Then she walked away, and when even Barbara moved to follow, looked over her shoulder with a shake of her head. "I kinda need to be alone right now, okay?"

"Sure, sweetheart." Barbara murmured softly. Only once Lydia was gone, did she then turn to her other living friend. Her eyes went soft at the stressed pain in Olivia's eyes. "Oh Liv," She turned to her, sweeping her up in her arms next, like she was still a little girl, "I know this is so hard on you… First Edmond, then Lydia…"

It made her feel like shit. She didn't deserve to be comforted, and she still loved it, turning her face into Barb's shoulder like a small child. Finally, the tears she hadn't been able to release for so long flowed down her cheeks, and a soft sob escaped her chest. "I'm so sorry, you guys." She whispered, referring to her unforgivable words a few days before. "I never should have said what I said. I know you love Lydia just as much as I do…"

"It's okay, Liv." It was Adam speaking now, his voice sounded tight, but when she looked up, he was smiling. "You were our daughter long before she was… We're not about to stop caring about you over a few hurt feelings." He came in to add his arms to the hug, and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "We're family." He finished simply.

Yes, yes, they were family. God, they were the only family she'd ever really felt like she had. And somewhere along the way, she'd held on to that feeling of protection, nurturing, and safety, while even her daughter had become more independent than she dared. Olivia wiped her eyes, and felt about two feet tall. "God, I'm such a bitch…" She whispered, more to herself than them.

"It happens to the best of us." Barbara said matter-of-factly, never mind that it was a lie. "Now why don't I make some hot chocolate, and we'll figure out what to do next." It was of course, the last thing Olivia should do, turning to these two again for the answers, to sooth her hurt, to comfort her fears. But she did. Because unlike her daughter, she still didn't feel strong enough to do this without them…

--

Fucking _bitch_! He stood facing the wall, glaring at nothing at all. More than anything, he wanted to ram his head against it a few times. He resisted the urge, and just gave his most fey grin to the flat surface, inches away. She wanted him to leave her the hell alone? _Fine._ He would leave her the hell alone.

Striking the wall with the back of his hand, leaving his knuckles throbbing, he pulled out of the alley, and considered the world at large, ready and eager to vent his frustrations. Just let someone cross him now… Hell, let someone look at him funny! He popped his knuckles with his thumb, squared his shoulders, and emerged back onto the street, looking for trouble, and well aware of it.

Eyes followed him, there was no question of that, but to a one, every person he passed by just quickened their pace, and hurried on. No surprise there, he looked ready to kill. The living, proof otherwise be damned, weren't as stupid as they let on.

He was mad at the world. Mad at the bright sunny day, the calm breeze, the happy people… Albeit people who avoided his gaze like the devil's… And most of all, pissed at the little bitch who once again, left him feeling about as omnipotent as a damp match.

How the hell could she do this to him? _Him?_ The ghost with the most, the… The fucking bioexorcist that had brought down the best and the worst the living world had to offer? He'd met sandworms that had gotten under his skin less!

Kicking a piece of trash, he fell to muttering to himself, eyes cast uselessly on his boots. "Leave me the hell alone… Stop haunting me… Never _really_ been haunted by me, have you, you little…" He scowled. That's what he should do. He should haunt her good. He remembered with a sickened little twist of his lips how she'd cried out back there in the diner… _Beetlejuice! You're scaring me!_ And of course he'd let her off the hook, like a sap. "Oughta really scare her…"

He stopped, because the light was red, and as pissed as he was, he didn't really want to throw his new life away on the hood of some passing car, all for that little _girl_. He lifted his hand, on impulse, and snapped his fingers, making the light green again. A squeal of tires told him it hadn't been expected, but what did he give a damn? The smell of burning rubber followed him as he crossed the street, and continued down the road.

All she did was string him along, like this was some kind of fucking game…Like he was… And of course, this was where he ran out of steam. Not like he was. Like she wasn't. Like she wasn't scared of him at all. He shook his head, eyes narrowed. _Like hell I'm not scary_, he thought, glancing at his reflection in a passing window.

And pausing. _God, I look like hell_. Or at least death warmed over. With so long without access to a mirror, he'd really let himself go. He ran his hand over his hair, which looked about as groomed as some debris piles he'd passed on the street, and scowled at himself. He needed to clean up. When was the last time he'd done that? Not that he smelled, or anything…

His fingers tugged at his chin, and he regarded himself with something of a look of disgust. Well hell, no wonder she didn't want him touching her! _Still didn't have to go after that GQ wannabe…_ Suddenly remembering his fury, he snapped his fingers, and the glass before him cracked, straight down the middle.

Turning back on his way, he concentrated on little more than his feet again, trying to deny the idea that any of this was his fault. _She'd_ been the one flirting. Like he wasn't supposed to get pissed… Though maybe he had gone a bit over the top.

_Shit, I wonder if Juno saw that_… He stopped again, frowning, and turned this over in his mind. _Ah, hell_… He didn't even know if she was still looking in on him, but it seemed a good bet. Maybe he wasn't strictly dead anymore, but he wasn't strictly alive now either, was he? Not if he still had his juice. And he sure as hell wasn't giving that up.

"Devil's own luck, my ass." He muttered aloud, some of his rage finally dripping away, and leaving him more than anything, feeling sorry for himself. "He's a sorry mother-fucker, if that's true…"

Damn. Now he had to make up with Lydia. Except _she'd_ told him to leave her the hell alone. To stop haunting her. Damn it. He closed his eyes, and lifted his face to feel the sun. Not that it did a thing to warm him now… "Babes," He said aloud, as if to the girl who couldn't hear, "There are fates worse than being dead in this world… And damned if I haven't gotten myself into a fix now."

She was the only one who could drive him this crazy. There had to be a reason for that. And it wasn't that he wanted to apologize, but… Hell, she probably wouldn't even let him.

_Just give her time to cool off, Beetlejuice,_ he finally decided, grimacing, _It's not like she can stay pissed forever… Hell, not at you._ Now if only he could convince himself to believe it…

--

She wasn't mad. She wasn't.

Well, actually, yes she was, she was pissed… But more than mad, she was scared. Not of Beetlejuice, mind. Even at his worst, he hadn't so much as twitched a finger against her. Pretty much, she was scared of herself, because she'd lost control back there even worse than he had. Hell, if she could have, she would have picked up the room, turned it, and dropped it on him!

Shivering a little, she closed her eyes, slumped across her bed, and stared pointedly at the darkness behind them. _Leave me the hell alone…_ Was that what she wanted? For him to just, disappear? God knew it would make things easier for her… But easier wasn't necessarily better.

Then again, she'd be able to have a guy flirt with her a little, without worrying he'd suffer permanent damage at her undead husband's psychopathic hand. She grimaced at this. Who knew he was that crazy over her, that he'd pull something like that? It was stupid. And it still made her heart race a little. Damn him for being so confusing.

Squeezing her blanket hard in either hand for a second, she released it again as she sat up, and tried to think it through logically. Probably no one she knew had been there. The only person who could link her to what had happened back there was Deputy Garin… Hell, no one would believe him. Not that he couldn't still make life difficult for her. She winced a little at the memory of not only fear in his eyes, but hate. Like he blamed her personally for Beetlejuice's actions.

"No one's responsible for Beetlejuice, but Beetlejuice." She murmured aloud, certain this was true, and still unable to shake just a trace of guilt. She should have just pulled away. Hell, what was she thinking? That it would somehow work between her and this cop, despite her being married? And she didn't know a damn thing about him anyway, to even decide if she'd want it to…

She'd let him turn her head, just because he'd said she was pretty. And he hadn't even really said it. _But that doesn't make it my fault_, she reminded herself stubbornly, getting slowly to her feet. _No one in their right mind would go crazy like that, just from seeing their wife hold another guy's hand_. Would they? No, surely not…

Which left it of course, that Beetlejuice was not in his right mind. But how could he be? He'd been dead for, how long now? She didn't even know. But that had to change a guy. Then again, Adam and Barb were dead too. They weren't nuts. They were great.

It all went back to him, being unstable, dangerous… "Stupid." She added aloud, with a hiss. "God, if he's trying to impress me, he's going about it majorly the wrong way!" Except of course, that this wasn't as true as she wanted it to be, because she was impressed. And that in turn, made her feel bad all over again.

Lydia gave herself a long, stern look in the mirror. A sort of, 'you know you better shape up, right?' kind of look. She didn't buy it for an instant. "He is an asshole." She tried next, aloud. "A dangerous, jealous…" And here she broke off. Who would have figured anyone would ever be jealous over her? She scowled at her reflection. She was not supposed to be _flattered_ by that bullshit back there.

_I look pretty when I'm mad_. She shook her head. What a random thought. She was tired, needed sleep, that was all. She looked out the window, and was surprised to find that it was already dark. Hell, how long had she been fuming? She ran her hand across her eyes, and was surprised when this was followed by a yawn. _Wonder what time it is_…

She glanced at a clock, and was shocked again to see that it was eleven thirty-four. Hell. She still had to get up in the morning. "On the plus side," She mused to herself, starting to pull her shirt off, "If Garin hasn't showed up by now…"

And she paused, shirt half off, staring at the mirror. Oh, _hell _no. She put her shirt back on, put both hands on the mirror, and turned it deliberately towards the wall. No peep show tonight.

Once properly dressed, it should have been easy to fall asleep. She was tired enough, that was for sure. Instead, again, she lay in bed, and stared at the back of her eyelids. _Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice… _Three little words, that had absolutely no power anymore. She'd let him out. There was no way to put him back, even if she wanted to.

Did she want to? No, that was a question she wasn't ready to ask just yet… "Damn you, Beetlejuice." She muttered aloud, rolling to her side, and closing her eyes more tightly. She had to get up early tomorrow. One way or another, she had to get some sleep.

And Beetlejuice? The hell with him.

--

He was determined to just peek in for a minute… See if she was still raising hell over what he'd pulled. God, he hoped she wasn't crying again…

Much to his relief, Lydia was asleep. She looked exhausted. He hovered next to her bed, his feet a mere few inches off the floor, and considered her with a frown. She took things way too seriously. That was her problem. Then, he had been the one to almost blow up the place. _Guess that was kind of stupid_…

He wanted to reach out to her. To brush the hair from her face, to… Hell, to kiss her. She'd probably deck him though. _Might be worth it_… He remembered their first kiss. Their only kiss, except the one at the wedding. He preferred thinking of their first kiss though, less anger involved. At least for him.

"Lyds, what am I going to do with you?" It was said very softly, and then he moved away, settling against the wall a few feet away. The bottle in his hand was filled with some dark liquid… Alcohol, he knew. Other than that, it could be anything. But it was strong, and that was what he needed. He put it to his lips, and took a deep draw. Immediately he made a disgusted face. God, he used to drink that stuff?

Being alive had made him soft. He frowned, considering the sleeping girl. Hell, she had made him soft. He hadn't planned on that… He took another deep drink, and closed his eyes, frustrated. How had he come to this? Watching Olivia's kid, _my wife_, he reminded himself darkly, sleep, while he stood there getting shit-faced? _Ah, Beetlejuice, you're losing it, buddy…_

His eye was caught by a wad of papers on her dresser, they looked like they'd been crumpled and thrown there during her little fit. Some had been torn beyond recognition. He wondered idly what exactly, on a piece of paper, could have earned her wrath. Never one to let an impulse pass without acting on it, he floated over, put the bottle down, and straightened one of the papers.

His stomach lurched. God, it was him… Only it wasn't him. This guy was way too human, way too clean. His eyes didn't look like some demon was peering out of them. He still looked bedraggled, a little crazy, maybe even a bit dangerous… But there was something almost fond in the way he'd been depicted. Like the artist actually gave a damn about him. _Lydia_…

A quick examination proved the rest of the papers to bear similar sketches, all of him. More than one in his wedding tux. Draw from a dozen angles, with a number of different expressions, most of them grinning, she'd captured his image more times than he really wanted to think about. And from the pile of paper scraps strewn across the dresser, and down the floor, more times than he'd ever know.

Something in his gut felt distinctly unwell, even as he smiled at his distorted features, drawn to be a little more human than he knew he'd ever be. _Damn Lyds_… The girl had talent. And apparently an obsession with him. And that would be all fine and dandy,he remembered, his frown returning, if he hadn't gone and pissed her off enough to make her crumble her artwork, and rip it to shreds.

He glanced back at her, unmoved from her place beneath the thick black comforter. _Ah hell… Beetlejuice, you idiot. _He considered her for a moment longer, then turned back to the pictures. After a moment, he began straightening them, one by one, until they were in a neat little pile. He eyed the shredded pieces, and made a face. Remembering his bottle, he took a drink, and turned his thoughts over. He was sure he could find some tape somewhere.

Some hours later, he was back in his spot by her bed, still watching her, fascinated by every twitch, every curl of her fingers. She was dreaming. He played with the idea of visiting her dreams, but after a brief consideration, decided that he preferred the idea that maybe she was dreaming of him on her own.

Suddenly, just for a moment, she stirred, and opened her eyes. He stiffened as they landed on him, but though several curious thoughts seemed to pass her gaze, she didn't seem angry, even when a moment later, she seemed to decide he was real. "Beej?" She croaked softly, still sounding tired. "What are you doing here?"

His mind rolled for an excuse. "Just can't keep away from you, babes." He offered at last, with a pale imitation of his usual confident grin. When she smiled though, it quickly became very real. "Oh," He scoffed, taking a step closer anyway, "Don't act like you're happy to see me, or anything!"

"Beetlejuice," She whispered, closing her eyes again sleepily, "I don't know who's crazier here… You or me." Then she stretched a little, yawned, and opened one eye to consider him again. "You look like hell." She informed him matter-of-factly.

There was nothing to be done at this, but grin. "Hell hath no fury, babes…" He reminded her softly. He knew things were going to be okay when she made a face, trying not to laugh.

"Beetlejuice," She suddenly whispered aloud, then said it again, looking at him evenly as she sat up a little, "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

Said Beetlejuice frowned, feeling a small stab of betrayal. Why would she try to send him away? He'd just thought they were back to pretty good. "That's not going to work any more, babes." He pointed out softly, unable to keep from sounding a little annoyed. "You let me out."

Lydia yawned, looking unimpressed. "I know," She murmured, turning to snuggle back into her pillow, "I just had to make sure. That way I don't have to feel bad about not sending you away, when you act like a psychopathic asshole." Despite her words, she was smiling.

He considered this. "So, you don't want to send me away?" He asked now, his face breaking into a slow grin. "I knew I was just that damn sexy… Hey, Lyds?" This time there was no answer. He floated closer, and poked her shoulder with one finger. "I know you're not sleeping yet." When there was still no response, he lifted his eyebrows, and smirked, "Well, couldn't hurt to steal a little kiss then… What you don't know won't hurt you, and all that."

She opened one eye, and gave him a long, measured look. He chuckled, and moved back to his place against the wall. Even the devil knew when not to press his luck… He swore though, that her eye softened before she closed it again.

Ah well. At least he hadn't told him to leave. Good thing too, because as he realized now, watching her fall back to sleep, there was no way in hell he was going anywhere. Ever.

--


	11. And Apparently, Freezes Over

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

She felt the weight of his ring on her finger long before she opened her eyes, which she counted as strange. It felt warm, and she swore, glowed with hues of amber rose behind her eyes. She also knew that he was still there, close by. Watching her? Strange how little that bothered her.

Relaxing into a slow stretch, Lydia's eyes cracked open, just a little, and she cast them around the room for said poltergeist. She was a little surprised to see him on her simple wooden chair, slumped, looking pretty much asleep. She supposed he did have to sleep now, but that just looked plain uncomfortable.

Wiping her hair from her eyes, she rose from bed, and quietly gathered a change of clothes, doing her best not to wake him. It didn't really seem to be a problem though. He was sleeping the sleep of the dead, so to speak. Just the thought of this made her smile, which in turn made her shake her head._I am so weird_…

The reflection that greeted her from the bathroom mirror looked a little less drawn than the last time she'd seen it. Not because she'd gotten enough rest, obviously, so then why? "Because I'm not mad at him anymore." She sighed, accepting this even as she said it, as true. She didn't know at what point she'd decided not to be upset anymore, but it was before she'd seen him watching her sleep. Maybe while she'd actually been sleeping. _You can't get mad at Beetlejuice for being Beetlejuice_…

Everyone else in the house still seemed to be asleep, and when she peeked at him again, so was her husband. She made a face at that thought too. _Husband_. Like that seemed real. And yet her face softened as she watched him there, so utterly determined not to leave her side. She wondered idly why he hadn't crawled into bed with her, as he had before. Maybe the guy was getting some sense…

She picked up her blanket, intending to cover him with it, then took another look at the rather unstable wooden chair he was sleeping in, and grimaced. There was no use for it then. "Beej?" She prompted softly. He made a small motion, but otherwise showed no sign of waking. She hesitantly put one hand on his shoulder, and gave him a little shake. "Beetlejuice?" It was weird, how that name didn't even seem strange anymore…

Beetlejuice came awake with a start, even as she knelt before him to try again, and fell out of the chair. Pretty much right on top of her. He looked down at her, took in the position they were in, and grinned, one of his most lecherous grins. "Hey, babes." He greeted her, nonchalantly. "You get started without me?"

Growling, Lydia heaved him off her, since he didn't seem in any hurry to extract himself, and he should have ended up on his ass from it. Instead he sat there calmly in midair, twisting his wild eyebrows at her, and smiling. Lydia blew the hair from her face, not yet rising. "I was going to say you should get in bed…" She began, only of course to be cut off by him, with a laugh.

"Hey, babes, you only had to ask…"

"To _sleep_." She emphasized, getting a little unsteadily to her feet. "I'm going to school." At this, he frowned a little, as if annoyed that her life wasn't going to simply revolve around him now. She fixed him with a tolerant gaze. "You know, school? Where I go _every day_?"

Now his scowl deepened. "Every day…" He echoed, eyes narrowing a little. Then, before she could confirm this, he suddenly swept up, grabbed her around the waist, and leaned very far into her personal space, eyes glinting. "You don't gotta go yet, babes…"

Lydia might have been steel in his arms, but her stiffness wasn't from anger this time. She was noticing instead, that he must have recently taken a bath. His hair was brushed. And for some reason she didn't understand, he smelled _good_. She closed her eyes, breathing it in deeply, and was surprised by the rush of warmth it brought her.

Hell. Hell no. Recovering her senses, she pushed him back at arm's length, and sighed, turning her back on him. "I do have to go now," She heard herself denying aloud, her voice as collected as ever, "I don't have time for games."

Beetlejuice made an indelicate sound, to show what he thought of this. But a moment later, he picked the blanket off the floor, and retreated to her bed, pulling the covers up over his face. "Don't wake me up until you get home." He advised enigmatically, before fading from sight completely, the blanket falling flat where he'd been a moment before.

She stared at the place with a frown. Well shit, was he still there or not? She poked the covers warily, and got no response. Oh well.

Lydia was halfway out the door when she remembered that she was out of eyeliner. She'd used her last pencil up the day before, drawing… Well, drawing. She considered going without it, then sighed, and returned to her dresser, to fish through her top drawer for a new stick. She'd managed to find it, and quickly too, and was starting to turn away, when something caught her eye.

Turning back around slowly, Lydia took in the sight of the absence of the mess she'd made the night before. Instead, smoothed out carefully, were each of the pictures she'd drawn of Beetlejuice, laid neatly on top of each other. Despite herself, she paused, giving herself a moment to leaf through them.

Her real surprise came when she found the first of the pictures she'd torn to shreds, now carefully pieced back together with endless clear tape. Her fingers twitched, just a little, a breath from his image. Had he done that? _There's no one else here, Lydia_… She reminded herself slowly. Her throat felt suddenly thick. "Beej?" She whispered, baffled. How could the guy who'd thrown that god-awful tantrum the day before, then sit in her room with a roll of tape, and put her pictures back together one by one?

School suddenly seemed unimportant. Not that it had ever been a real driving force in her life… She sat there, going through the pictures one by one, then stopping at the end, and doing it again. They were all here. Every one of them. _God, he really does give a damn about me, doesn't he?_

It was actually nine o' clock before she was interrupted, as Barb opened her door in surprise to find her sitting in the middle of the floor, the pictures spread out around her in a wide arc. Her lips twisted in something like a frown, as her eyes took in the pictures, as well as the damage done to them. A moment later though, all she said was, "Lydia, you need to go to school."

Lydia nodded, slowly, blinking to clear her head. "Yeah…" She agreed, sort of noncommittally. Then she saw the clock, and winced. Oh hell. Miss Shannon was going to kill her.

Leaving the papers where they were, she rushed past Barbara, paused, ran back to give her a hug, and whispered, "Don't let anyone throw those away, okay?"

"Sure, hon…" But the woman was already talking to the back of her head, as she raced away again. Barbara considered her for a long moment, then turned back to the drawings scattered across the floor. This was worse than she thought. The girl really did love him…

--

She couldn't have honestly learned anything that entire day. All she could think about was him. Her eyes glazed, a little thoughtful frown on her face, she stared some distance ahead at nothing at all, and utterly ignored the world around her. Miss Shannon's ruler, snapping against the side of her desk like a gunshot, made her jump about two feet, and look around wildly for the source.

"Have you heard a word I've said all day, Ms Deetz?" The woman was demanding, exasperated. Lydia looked at her blankly, not understanding the question. The woman's eyes narrowed, and her next words were spoken through her teeth. "Can you tell me," She pressed slowly, "What we were just discussing?"

What? Hell no. Lydia shook her head, and looked down at her desk. Well shit, she'd been drawing again. On her desk this time. No wonder the teacher was pissed. Apparently, she'd written the word 'Beej' about fifty times across the formerly unmarred wood. It actually kind of surprised her, because she didn't remember doing it.

"Perhaps you'd like to sit the remainder of this class, in the principal's office?" The teacher was saying now. Lydia looked up, surprised she hadn't thought of this before. At least then she wouldn't have to pretend like she was paying attention…

"Yeah sure," She could have kicked herself for the grateful way this came out, "That sounds awesome." Someone in class giggled. Several someones actually. Miss Shannon's face colored, and she just pointed, tight-lipped, unable to summon a word.

Lydia left the classroom, walking down the hall slowly. She didn't go to the principal's office though. It was almost time for the bell to ring anyway, and she was in no mood for detention. Instead, legs swinging out a bit crazily, her hands in her pocket, she walked straight out of the school, and never looked back.

Unfortunately, it seemed that her father head arrived early to pick her up, and the sight of her walking out of the otherwise still school was not lost on him. She stopped, giving him a long stare, before doing her best to smile. "Shit," She said aloud, as if to a friend, "How am I supposed to get away with cutting class early, if you're going to pick me up everyday?"

Her father frowned, and looked at his watch. She knew she had like ten minutes to go. Which begged the question of what he was doing there so early… "Lydia," He said softly, with a sigh, "I'm not going to get mad. I'm not. But you can't keep doing this." Then, reaching in through the passenger window, he brought out a newspaper, and shook it open. "Look familiar?"

To Lydia's surprise, she was looking at a picture of herself, on the front page. She didn't remember anyone there having a camera… Fortunately, the picture was so blurred, her features so distorted, that probably only her father had figured out who it was. Lydia felt a stab of guilt, like she'd been the one to do something wrong. "Beetlejuice is an ass." She informed her father simply, getting into the car.

He said nothing else until he'd gotten in his side, and started the engine. With the windows rolled up, they could talk in private. "Have you talked to him about Claire Brewster?" He asked her after a moment, his tone serious. Lydia looked at him in surprise, this thought never even having occurred to her. Her dad looked very stern though. "This revenge thing has gone on too far, honey. She's just a kid too."

True. Not that Lydia really thought of herself as a kid, these days. But she was, wasn't she? Before she could answer, she suddenly realized what she should have known a full minute and a half before, and made a face, closing her eyes. "Tell him yourself." She muttered, making her father look at her oddly. "Beej, what are you doing back there?"

Finally making himself visible in the backseat, Beetlejuice looked utterly unintimidated by her father's presence, and unimpressed with her scolding. "Little bitch had it coming to her." He informed them both, matter-of-factly. "Good to see you again, Chuck."

"It's Edmond." Her father corrected calmly. Lydia was baffled. This seemed to be a conversation they'd had before. "You can at least learn your father-in-law's name."

"Yeah, whatever." Beetlejuice dismissed this as unimportant, slumped across half the backseat, as large a presence as ever. "So fine, if Lyds wants, I'll leave the whiny little ear breaker alone." He cast a small, sly glance at her, and added, "But can you really say that's what you want, babes?"

Lydia grimaced. It would have to be up to her. He couldn't possibly do it out of the goodness of his heart, or because her father had asked him to. "Just stay away from her, Beej." She said at last, sighing. "It's not like she's worth it…"

"I'll be the judge of that." Beetlejuice interrupted with a short laugh.

"…And you've probably scarred her for life and beyond anyway." Lydia finished, just as if he hadn't said a word. "Besides, you got what you want, right? It's not like she didn't have anything to do with that…"

Beetlejuice opened his mouth to say something, looked at her father, and settled for one of his wide, charming smiles instead. "Anything for you, babes." He answered simply, gone a breath later. _See you soon… Don't keep me waiting_.

Okay, no way that was in her head. The car pulled up in the driveway, and her father stopped, about halfway up. He gave a long, thoughtful look at the house itself. Lydia could almost read his mind. Go in? Try to be civil? Pretend hearts hadn't been broken, and promises trampled? "I'm sorry, I really can't stay," He said suddenly, though she hadn't asked him to, "Say hello to…" And here he stopped. She didn't think there was anyone in the house he wanted to say hello to.

"Yeah dad, sure." Lydia got out, leaned in the driver's side window to place a kiss on his cheek, and backed up, giving him permission to drive away. He didn't. Not right away. But a moment later, the engine started again, and he pulled back down the drive slowly.

No sooner had he vanished from sight, than Beetlejuice reappeared, sweeping her off the ground, around in the air twice, and then into a deep dip, until the long locks of her hair draped the ground. "You know you missed me…" He chuckled, before planting his lips squarely on hers, without giving her a chance to decide whether or not to stop him.

And so she didn't stop him, if only because it would have taken too much rational thought to do so, and hers all vanished the moment his hungry lips grabbed for hers. Damn. Damn he was good. It was him who pulled back a full minute later, looking smug over the fact that she hadn't tried once to pull away. She stared up at him, so dazed she was almost cross-eyed. "Bastard…" She whispered breathlessly.

His grin became a leer. "That's just your way of saying you love it…" He chuckled, coming in again, and biting her lower lip gently, before giving her another hard, deep kiss. Her mind started to drift off on some tangent of the warmth surrounding her, when the guy had the nerve to grab her ass, and give it a light pinch.

That woke her up. Sputtering as she pushed him away, like she was coming up for air, she glared at him with a mix of embarrassment and… What, desire? _No, no, no, no, no…_ "Why do you have to be such a…" She fought for the word, and couldn't find one appropriate. "You!" She settled on finally, trying to make it an insult.

Beetlejuice just looked smug, wiping his fingers across his lips, and licking them, as if he could still taste her. "Fuss all you want," He goaded, reaching for her again, "But don't pretend you didn't like it…"

"Ah…" Could she deny it? That little thrill the forbidden touch had shot across her skin? "Damn you, Beetlejuice…" She avoided his grasp, and of course he just reached again. She avoided that too, backing up, and his eyes got a sort of feral, hunting amusement to them, following her relentlessly.

She felt like she was in one of those cartoons, where the two characters chase each other around in circles, until inevitably, someone… She was the one that fell, and he was the one, of course, that caught her. Not sparing a moment, he gave her another long, lip tingling kiss, tipping her over backwards until they both fell in the grass. If anything, this only seemed to please him more, and he waggled his eyebrows at her with a grin.

"Beetlejuice!" She managed to pull herself free of him, bright red now, and struggled to her feet, pointlessly brushing off her skirt. "Just…!" Her mind raced for anything to say. "Just… go away!"

A shadow fell across his features, and suddenly he wasn't grinning anymore. "You telling me to leave you the hell alone again, babes?" He prompted softly, looking like he was ready to do just this, if she tried to push him away again. "'Cause if that's what you want…"

"No." She said it more quickly than she'd planned, almost urgently, and immediately berated herself. She closed her eyes for a minute, and then opened them to look at him again. He remained unmoved. He still looked fully ready to be pissed, if she just gave him a reason. "I want you to… come back tonight." Her head was swimming, she was confused, and god if the sight of him standing there, those smoldering green eyes peeling away her defenses, didn't make it worse.

"Tonight?" His lips curled in a mocking little smile. "Had about all you can take of my company for one day, babes? Or are we playing games again?"

His words infuriated her, but for once, she was determined not to let them cloud her judgment. She just shook her head, not trusting herself to any more words, and tried to convey with her eyes what she was feeling. After a moment, the anger seemed to drain from him, and something puzzled settled across his features. "I just, can't think." She said at last, then, after a pause, "Don't go away. Not forever. Please."

His eyebrows flew up at the word, 'please,' and he considered her with the most serious expression she'd ever seen on his reckless face. "Tonight." He repeated at last, a little dully, and with clear doubt to the word. "And you're going to figure out what you want to say by then." She nodded slowly, and his serious look deepened into a frown. "Suit yourself, babes." He said softly. This time without a gesture to accompany it, he was gone.

And immediately, the last thing Lydia wanted was to be alone.

--

The hours had passed like sludge through a drain. She found herself checking her appearance in the mirror, every few minutes, and then going into a funk in the corner of her room, staring at nothing at all. She wouldn't talk to anyone, not the Maitland's, not her mom. She didn't bother barricading the doorway, she just told them in a flat, no nonsense tone, that she needed time alone.

Beetlejuice. He was like some kind of crazy beat in her mind, like the music her foster parents listened to, the kind that got under your skin, and had you moving before you realized it. His face came to mind, over and over, his smell…

Was there really any reason she should be fighting off this urge to be, closer? After all, they were married, and… And yeah, she felt like a kid. Except when he looked at her that way. Except when he reached for her…

She leafed through her drawings, a dozen times, and finally put them in her dresser, to try to avoid the temptation. Her mind crossed that kiss, and that moment of excitement at his closeness, just before she'd pushed him away. And god, what was that smell…? How could someone so dead, even half back into life, make her feel so _warm_?

_And we are married_, she went on in her mind, for about the seventh time. _It's not like, if I did want to, it would be a bad thing._ But did she want to? For the life of her, she felt like maybe she did, but just couldn't bring herself to admit it. Cross that point she'd never crossed before, leave herself vulnerable in the hands of a man that had lusted after her, and made no bones about it, from the first time he'd laid eyes on her. God, who knew what someone like him might do?

She stopped pacing, and stared at herself in the mirror. Once again, she looked haunted. Her hair was a mess. Her gaze was dark with worry. _I shouldn't even be considering this, if it's messing me up this bad_…

But the fact was, she did want him. She did like it when he held her close, his mouth seeking hers, his hands playing along her spine. How many times did her mind turn the fantasy farther, until it left her out of breath, and weak-kneed? He was not the kind of guy she'd ever pictured herself falling for… And that was exactly what she was doing, wasn't it? She was falling for him.

"A guy named Beetlejuice can _not _be my first love." She whispered to herself, just to hear the words aloud. But of course, as she'd realized before, the name no longer seemed at all out of the ordinary. And him? She was, getting used to him. Like a comfortable pair of shoes. Or an old stained up sweatshirt.

And despite all her best intentions to push him away, back there, earlier, when he'd asked if she still wanted him to leave her the hell alone… It had scared her. Because the last thing she wanted, was for him to go away.

She stopped pacing, which she didn't even remember starting, looked in the air, and tested the words out loud. "The last thing I want," She repeated softly, "Is for him to go away." It still felt like the truth. _My god_. She really had fallen in love with him.

It was such a simple realization, but immediately her heart felt full, and a huge grin broke out across her face. She loved Beetlejuice. She loved… _Beetlejuice_. She loved his stupid grin, and his smoldering eyes, and his careless way with words. She loved how he did everything with _passion_… Even ask for forgiveness, without a word.

Her hands flew through her hair, and she half ran to her mirror this time, looking herself over. God, she needed a shower. Needed to brush her hair. Her teeth. Shave her legs, fix her make-up, find something to wear… A look of desperation touched her eyes. How long did she have? When would he come? It couldn't be more than an hour before it got dark out…

A groan passed her lips, and her gaze flew heavenward, as if in some supplication for help. And then, when Beetlejuice came, what would he be thinking? He'd looked pretty upset… _If I know a thing about Beetlejuice, that won't last long_. Not when he saw what she had in mind for him. A smile flicked across her face, small, mischievous, almost a smirk. He was going to be hers. All this time, he'd thought she was going to be his, but no. _He _was going to be _hers_.

Her heart was already slowing, her panic slipping away, and she lidded her eyes, planning ahead even as she moved to the dresser. She knew just what to wear. Make him think she'd just thrown it on. She couldn't wait to see his eyes bug out. The hip-length cotton t-shirt, nothing but white, dangled from her hand in an instant.

It was strange, the sense of relief her decision brought her. Relief, and anticipation that danced across her skin like tiny flames… _Beej, are you in for a surprise…_

--

She'd asked to see him tonight, so he'd see her. Not that he expected this meeting to go any better than his last… He cursed himself at the memory of that look in her eyes, just before he'd left. He couldn't place it, it wasn't something he'd seen before. Not in her eyes, not in anyone's. It made his legs feel like they couldn't hold him up.

But she was fucking crazy, if she thought she could keep stringing him along like this forever. He appeared glumly in the corner of her room, thinking this, and cast a searching eye around for Lydia. There she was, in front of her mirror. He cursed as he saw her dressed in a white cotton t-shirt, just barely draping her hips, and nothing else that he could see. So what the hell, was he early? How long did it take to put some goddamn pants on?

Lydia startled, without him saying a word, and turned to face him. Yeah, yeah, she was getting better at that… He wasn't prepared for the sweep of gentleness that crossed her eyes when she saw him though, or the way she didn't immediately dive for something to cover herself with.

Instead she stood there, flushing a delicious sort of pale pink, and pressed her arms behind her, exposing the curves of her front in all their unbarricaded glory. Her lips curved in something of a nervous smile, and he swore, his new heart thumped like a bird trying out its wings for the first time. "Beej?" She greeted him softly, with a lot more hesitation than she'd ever shown before. Then she swept her arms around, just a little, indicating her current state of dress. "You came." She whispered, "I wasn't sure if you would."

He'd come, all right. So what, so she could dangle herself in front of him like some prized treat, only to yank it away at the last minute? "Yeah, so?" He asked gruffly, not bothering to avert his eyes. Let her squirm. "What did you want, anyway?"

Her color deepened, almost imperceptibly. "I wanted to ask…" She began, then paused, and looked flustered for how to continue. "Beej," She whispered at last, taking a long, slow stride towards him, "If I say yes… Are you going to hurt me?"

Damn. Damn if that didn't sound like an invitation. Well aware that he was probably still being played, Beetlejuice flashed her his most careless grin. "Me? Nah. Hell no." He took a step towards her anyway, reaching with hungry hands, ready to call her bluff.

Indeed, she caught them before they could reach their destination, and for a moment his face darkened in a scowl. This time, she didn't seem to see it, just saying softly, "I know you've done this before, Beej…" A pause then, and she went on, sort of haltingly, "I haven't."

What, that was it? She let go of his hands, like it was. Now he couldn't help but grin, flicking his tongue over his lips. "Don't worry, babes," He promised softly, "I'll be _real _gentle." Inside though, he was kind of cursing himself. It had been a long time since he'd had to be gentle, and it was all he could do not to just grab her with both hands, and get this going.

She draped herself slowly against him, igniting him with fire everywhere her slight body touched against his. Her head tucked easily in the groove of his shoulder, and her next words tickled the little hairs on his neck. Her hair smelled warm, cherries and almonds, and something uniquely her. He sucked it in greedily, not yet willing to believe his luck. "I trust you, Beej." She said softly.

_Fuck_. He gave himself a moment to trace her spine, and enjoy the feel of her against him, before he pushed her back a little, and fixed her with a devilish grin. "I don't know if I want you to trust me that much, babes." He teased. Then settling himself back a little more, he put his hands on either of her hips, and moved down, slowly, to his knees before her. Her eyes flashed in uncertainty, but she didn't make a move to stop him.

Slowly, gently, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the soft fabric of her shirt, before drawing back away, and flipping the scarce few inches up. He grinned up at her, and she managed a small smile, watching him uncertainly. What was he going to do? He savored that look for a moment, and the fact that she still wasn't doing a damn thing to stop him.

Then he leaned forward, took the edge of her lacy panties between his teeth, and began drawing them down her long, beautiful legs. His fingers stroked every inch of the journey, then began sliding back up, even before the pretty black things were on the floor. He reached his warm destination, and leaned back a little, fixing her with a grin, searching her deep dark eyes. '"Something like what you had in mind?" He asked softly, his fingers stroking and teasing at her with single-minded determination.

Her whole body flushed now, she quickly had to take her bottom lip between her teeth, to keep from moaning aloud. "Damn you, Beetlejuice…" She whispered, her voice almost raw with emotion.

He lifted one eyebrow, and did a little trick with two of his fingers that made her close her eyes. "You better not be fucking teasing me this time, Lyds." He warned her softly. Not when he could smell her. Not when he could _feel_ her. She trembled under his touch like she wanted him. The way her hands burrowed into his hair, tugging lightly, was like she wanted him. And he sure as _hell_ wanted _her._

In answer, she lifted one leg, somewhat clumsily, and laid it slowly over his shoulder, giving him better access to the tender reaches of her. She closed her eyes again as he chuckled, turning his face into her thigh, and gently biting the creamy white skin. Damn. She tasted better than vanilla. "Bastard…" She whispered hoarsely, digging her fingers more deeply into his hair.

It was all he could do not to laugh. Oh yeah, this was going to be good. This was going to be _real good…_

_--_


	12. Happily Ever After?

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

He was, she decided several hours later, insatiable. The first time he was exceedingly slow, gentle, tender, but each time after that, it was like his sense of urgency built, and his patience began to slip away. Once, twice, three times, four… Every time she thought he surely must be exhausted, he just took a deep breath, grinned, and reached for her again.

"Beej," She murmured, finally turning her face into her pillow, and her back to him, "Haven't you had enough?"

His fingers were already dancing along her sides, his hungry mouth seeking the soft nape of her neck. His next words mumbled against the sensitive skin, making her tingle. "Of you, babes? No way. Never." His caresses began to grow more demanding, sending little flares of heat across her skin wherever he touched. "I'm the ghost with the most, babes. I can keep this up all night…"

Groaning a little, she shoved his hands away, not without some effort. "Well, I can't!" She moaned, turning a little, to fix him with a little half smile. "We keep this up, I won't be able to walk tomorrow!"

He laughed, softly, throatily, and finally relented, drawing his hands back from her most ticklish areas, and settling for holding her loosely around the waist. "Fucking tease." He muttered. This time though, he said it tenderly, with warmth, humor, affection… And the length of his thumb, drawing slowly down the back of her neck.

Lydia shivered, then did her best to pout. "That's not much of a pet name," She murmured aloud, but almost more to herself, "I don't like it." This just made him laugh again. Lydia turned her body more into his, until she was cupping his side with her softness, one leg draped loosely over his. "Beej?" She prompted, a little reluctantly.

Said Beej cast a little, mildly interested glance at her, looking far too pleased with himself to be annoyed over anything she might have to say now. "Yeah, babes?" He prompted, lifting one eyebrow a little. "You change your mind? You know I'm just that damn sexy…" His teeth bared in a grin.

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze as steadily as she could. She had to look at him for this. "Beej," She pressed again, a little more urgently, "You promise… You'll never hurt me?"

His lips drew up in a thoughtful moue, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. "Well, that'll limit what we can do, babes… But if that's what you want…"

Blushing again, when she should be far past such things, Lydia shook her head, trying to convey the importance of what she was saying. "That's not what I mean, Beej." She murmured, almost pleadingly. "Do you promise you'll never… hurt me?"

At this, beginning to sense she was serious, he sat up a little, frowning. "You mean like hit you, babes? Is this about what happened in the diner? 'Cause if it is, I never laid a hand on you…" He paused as her face grew pained, and her eyes flicked away. Obviously he was still missing whatever it was she was saying. "Lyds…" He groaned, getting impatient.

"Nothing." She denied softly, a sort of defeated sigh settling on her lips. "Forget it, Beej." Before he could press it, she laid her head over his chest, and her nearness and warmth made him suddenly not worry about anything else. Her fingers danced across his skin, seeking the lingering warmth from their love-making, and the faint beat of his pulse, that told her he was really there.

They lay this way for a while, and to his surprise, he was content with it. Sure, he wanted to jump her bones a few more times, but hell, he could wait. It was obvious now that she'd let him do pretty much anything he wanted to… As long as he was a little patient.

His fingers traveled unerringly to her neckline though, and while she giggled, his interest for once wasn't in her lovely cleavage, just a breath below his hand. Instead he took the cheap plastic spider he'd given her between thumb and forefinger, suddenly feeling a stab of irritation with himself. Cheap piece of shit. And she was actually wearing it… She deserved better.

Straightening, he untangled himself from her reluctant arms, and stood, reaching for his clothes. Lydia cast him a surprised look, followed by concern, and he gave her his most reassuring grin. "Go back to sleep, babes. I just gotta go do something."

Her eyes lidded, just a little, and again, one of those looks he couldn't read passed across her dark gaze. "You're leaving?" She asked softly, as if this wasn't what she wanted to hear.

She'd get over it, when she saw what he had planned. "Hell yeah, babes. Things to do." He leaned over her, planting a light kiss on her head, then, dispensing with formalities, dressed himself with a snap of his fingers. "You get some sleep, all right?" Before she could reply, he was gone with a flick of his wrist, eager to get on with his surprise.

Lydia's eyes widened, and she sat up a little, clutching the sheet to her bare breast. It took a minute for it to sink in, that he was really gone. So that was it? She said 'no more,' and he took off? Her lips trembled in betrayal, and she cast her eyes down, heavy lashes suddenly a curtain to hide the pain within. He could have just… held her. Longer than two minutes. God, didn't he realize what this was to her? Didn't he care?

But she didn't really know if he cared, did she? Not really. She'd never known. Sinking back down to the bed, she closed her eyes against the unfair world without, and tried determinedly to sleep. Damn him. Damn him…

Her eyes opened, just a little, and to no one at all, she whispered, "Beej?" There was a moment, a pause, as she waited for him to answer. Only he didn't, of course. More softly still, the next words fell from her lips, utterly heartbroken. "I love you…"

--

Barbara couldn't sleep. She couldn't sleep, and couldn't stop worrying about Lydia, about that softness she'd seen in the girl's eyes, as she'd hovered over her sketches. So she laid there, about a foot above the mattress, and stared at the ceiling as if it held the answers. Adam was sleeping. For once, she hadn't confided in him over her fears.

But for her, it was just too much to take. Sighing, she did her best not to wake him, as she left their bed, feet settling without a sound to the floor. Lydia had told them not to bother her. But Lydia would also be sleeping by now, right? So Barb would just peek in on her, assure herself that the girl was resting. That she was safe…

Moving silently down the hallway, she paused briefly by Olivia's room, where the woman now slept alone. Unable to resist, first she cracked that door, just a little, and peeked in. The still shape of her oldest friend, sides rising and falling gently with the breaths of a sleeper, told her that all was well. Or as well as things could be now.

Relieved by this at least, Barbara closed the door again, and leaned against it for a moment, thanking whatever small mercies looked after her family. Then though, her heart seized as she looked to the next door in the hall. Lydia… Losing her father. Marrying Beetlejuice. Everything else that had happened to her in the process. It was more than a mother could take, seeing her daughter have to go through. Never mind that Lydia wasn't really her daughter.

She moved forward more hesitantly this time, unable to explain the small seed of dread that had taken to nesting in her breast. Her hands paused on the door, before slowly turning the knob. God, let her be sleeping. Let her just be all right…

The room was still, and cast in a sort of darkness that had always been unique to Lydia's room, ever since she was a small girl. It took Barb's eyes a moment to adjust, but when they did, she saw her daughter breathing far too fast, far too deeply, for her to be sleeping. Or at least, for her not to be having a nightmare.

Indeed, she lifted her head a moment later, gazing towards the door where Barbara stood, and seemed to draw back, almost physically. "Barb?" She whispered, her voice a rasp. Obviously she'd been crying. "What are you doing?"

"I was worried about you, honey." Barbara came in a little further, only to have Lydia grab her blanket in both hands, and wrap it around herself tightly. Barbara stopped, puzzled by this reaction. "Are you okay, Lydia?" She prompted slowly.

"I'm fine." But of course, once again, her voice told the lie. She was not fine. She was sniffling, trembling, obviously distraught. "Just, leave me alone."

The last thing Barbara intended, was to leave her alone. She crossed the distance between them in three steps, and looked down at Lydia, clearly trying to cover every inch of her small body with the heavy comforter. She wouldn't meet Barb's eyes. Her lips trembled. Barbara touched her hair lightly, beginning to suspect why she squirmed beneath her foster mother's gaze, and looked like she was trying not to blush.

Barb took the edge of the blanket in a light grasp, and tugged it back a little. Just enough to reveal the girl's bare shoulders. If she'd had blood, all of it would have left her face. "My god," She whispered, feeling like she really needed to sit down, "Did he… Did he force himself on you?"

The girl's eyes shot up, and something defensive sparked in their depths, like she was thinking of a way to protect him. "He wouldn't do that." She whispered, her voice flat, despite her best efforts. "He wouldn't. He just…" And here she paused, and her strong features fell, and her eyes grew even darker than usual. "He just left, Barb." She whispered, softly. "He didn't say he loved me, or anything, he just…" And here she broke off, as if this was simply all she had the strength to say.

_Oh. Oh Lydia… _Barbara closed her eyes, both relieved, and absolutely shattered by what the girl had confessed. Shattered all the more, because she knew Lydia did love him. "Sweetheart…" She whispered, reaching down, and drawing the girl, blanket and all, up into her arms. She'd never thought for a moment that Beetlejuice could have loved the girl. Seen her as a way out, yes. Lusted after her, certainly. But loved her? No, no, not Beetlejuice…

Lydia felt, so small in her arms. The way she had as a small child, woken up by a terrible dream. She didn't seem old enough to have crossed the line that left her so fragile now. But she was. She was a young woman, and she'd given her heart, and had it broken. Barbara had never wanted to hurt Beetlejuice just as much as she did now.

"Maybe he doesn't know?" Lydia's voice, like her, was exceedingly fragile, but the dark eyes she turned up to the woman, glimmered with hope. "I mean, he said he had something to do. Maybe he's coming back?"

Barbara felt nothing so much as sick. She wanted to believe it, for Lydia's sake. God, for her sake, she was willing to forgive Beetlejuice every asshole thing he'd ever done. If he just didn't break the girl's heart… And she certainly couldn't be the one to do it. So she smiled, trying to pretend that there weren't tears in her own eyes. "Maybe, honey." She agreed softly. And it actually sounded almost like it might be true. "There's no telling what that guy's up to, right?"

The girl turned in her arms, resting her head against Barb's shoulder. She seemed still now, somehow more at peace. As if all she'd needed was someone to confess her fears to. "He fixed my pictures." She noted suddenly, her voice still soft. "I didn't even ask him to." This was followed by a long pause, before she turned her face into Barbara's shoulder, muttering, "I'm being stupid…"

"Wanting to know a guy loves you, especially…" Here Barbara's voice broke, and she just stroked Lydia's head for a moment. "No, honey." She denied softly, "You're not stupid." Evidence to the contrary be damned. Love made everyone stupid.

She held her that way, until the girl fell asleep in her arms, and for a long time after. The living grew, changed, aged. Children became teenagers, then adults. It had been so easy to accept when she and Adam were alive themselves, but now… It felt alien. Part of a world they just no longer belonged to. And the fact of the matter was, it was true.

Barbara had never felt so far away from the girl she held so tightly in her arms, the girl she'd grown to love in a way she'd never thought she could love a human being that wasn't her own. But god, Lydia was her own… And Barbara couldn't protect her. All she could do, was be there to wipe away her tears.

And in the darkness, she told herself that it was okay, that there was no one there just then to wipe away her own.

--

Beetlejuice had no idea just how much trouble he'd caused. But then, Beetlejuice rarely did. Instead he was busy turning his old place upside down, trying to find every trinket he'd ever collected, every coin he'd ever nicked, and trying to gather together a treasure worthy of his new wife.

When he'd seen her there in his arms, so warm, so trusting… God, smiling at him, he'd realized something. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to make her happy. And there was no way in hell he hadn't collected enough valuable junk over the centuries to let him do just that, if he wanted to.

Which he did.

It was all there, from brass coins ages beyond him, to broken daggers inlaid with rubies, to a couple of dozen or more rings, each valuable in its own way. Tarnished silver flasks, slender golden chains, dented pottery that had to be at least a thousand years old… He'd assembled a respectable collection in his time. And he was going to use every piece of it to make that girl back there smile.

He paused as he finally found what he'd been looking for, a rather green-stained white metal beetle, inlaid with tiny chips of sapphire. Hell yeah. That was more like it. The handful of coins he'd uncovered with it, he simply added to the growing pile. There, that had to be just about everything…

Casting a glance around the place, he felt no pangs of regret at the state of absolute chaos it was now in, thanks to his little treasure hunt. Instead he grinned, thinking of the look on his babe's face when he gave her a necklace worthy to grace that slender alabaster throat. Now he just had to get it cleaned up a little, and find a chain somewhere…

There was, it should be noted, a lot of room in his pockets, so it wasn't nearly as surprising as it seemed, when he began scooping up the piles of treasure by the handful, and placing them carelessly into them. The striped suit didn't even bulge. And within a matter of minutes, the last half penny was securely in place.

_Betcha thought she was making a mistake, you old bat_, he smirked, thinking of how for once, Juno had completely misjudged the situation. _Well, now I'm going to be able to take care of her for the rest of her life… The rest of her afterlife, even!_ "So stick that in the slit in your throat, and puff on it!" He finished aloud, to no one at all.

He had to hurry. He wanted to be back by the time she woke up. And she had that school thing to worry about… So it would probably be early. He made a face. Well, it wouldn't last forever. He was pretty sure she only had a few years left… He'd deal with it. Hell, he'd dealt with worse! And as long as she was his at night…

Beetlejuice was grinning like a demon with a plan, as he vanished from his apartment again, for what he swore was the last time. Hell with the security deposit. Hell with the mess.

Lydia was waiting.

--

Morning came far too soon, with the dull sound of her clock drawing her back to the waking world, from a dream where Beetlejuice hadn't left her after all. It was, to say the least, hard to wake up, and find it not true.

Still, she was a little more collected than she'd been the night before, certain that once again, this was just Beetlejuice being Beetlejuice. Too thick-headed to even realize how much he'd hurt her. He'd be back before she knew it, leering that lecherous little smirk, undressing her with his eyes, and showing he gave a damn in little, weird ways, uniquely him. She supposed she should probably get used to it.

She got dressed slowly, wondering just when Barb had left. She hadn't fallen asleep in the woman's arms since she was eight… It still felt good. _I never want to grow up_, she smirked at the world at large, silently. Hell, she had the best of both worlds right then. Why would she want that to change?

At least, she had the best of both worlds, if _he_ came back. Otherwise, she was devastated. But for now, she just sighed, and did her level best not to think about it.

She did however, get ready in record time, doing her best not to think about it, and found herself with about half an hour to kill before she had to head to school. She thought about retrieving her sketches, then got a better idea, and a grin broke out across her face. Her camera. Hell, she hadn't taken pictures since this whole thing started. She hadn't even realized how much she missed it.

The camera in question, in a box in her closet, was a good one, and she knew it well. She lost herself for a while in the methodical tasks of taking it apart, cleaning it, inspecting every inch for the tiniest flaw. She thought about getting Beetlejuice's picture, and smiled. Ghosts only photographed as orbs, supposedly, but he was kind of alive now, right? At least, other people could see him too.

"I gotta get a picture of him…" She murmured aloud, setting a full roll of film into the camera. She still had a few minutes to kill before she had to leave, according to the clock, so she decided to get some breakfast, despite having no appetite.

Seeing Barb, as she came into the kitchen, was harder than she'd expected. God, the woman looked like she'd gotten less sleep than Lydia had… But she smiled anyway, looking relieved that Lydia was up and about, and didn't seem emotionally damaged by the night before. Lydia gave her a kiss on the cheek before swinging into her chair, just across from her mother.

"Morning, honey." It was Adam, and while he didn't look up from his paper and coffee, he smiled at her anyway. "Sleep well?"

Lydia fought down the bizarre impulse to laugh, and just made a noncommittal sound, reaching for the stack of pancakes on the table, only half claimed. Suddenly, for reasons she didn't know, she was starving. She took three of the thick things for her own, and drenched them in syrup. She belatedly remembered her camera, and settled for tucking it under the table cloth. Syrup was hell to get off it. She should know.

Finishing whatever snippet of information had caught his attention, Adam folded the paper, looking content. Lydia wondered with a bizarre little twitch of her lips whether he was reading the obituaries. She'd caught him doing it before. Like her, he seemed to have great appetite, whatever it had been.

"I see you brought down your camera." It was her mother speaking, surprisingly, and Lydia looked at her in puzzlement, amazed the woman had noticed. "I was wondering when you'd start taking pictures again." She paused for a sip of orange juice, before adding, a bit wryly, "I wonder if that means things are going to get back to normal around here…"

Again, Lydia fought the impulse to give a mad little laugh in answer. Normal? When had things around here ever been normal? In fact, she was only just beginning to realize just how abnormal their situation was… And when this crossed her mind, she couldn't help but squeak a little giggle. Her mother tried not to smile, just rolling her eyes.

Things felt, good. Better than they'd been in a long time. The odd thing was, this was despite the fact that there was a chair empty at their table now, where her father had been sitting just a couple of weeks before. Despite not knowing when, _not if_, she told herself sternly, her own husband was coming back. Even school didn't seem that terrifying, for a change.

She did, for the record, eat every bite, and follow it by a glass of milk. As she'd promised herself that night, so long before, she hadn't touched coffee since. She couldn't even stand looking at the stuff anymore. Comfortably full, she sat there with her eyes closed for a minute, before jumping up, camera in hand, and a wild smile on her face. "Everyone in for a picture!" She cried.

Her mother looked amused, but stood obediently, and got in next to Barbara and Adam. "This never works, you know." Adam reminded her good-naturedly, adjusting his glasses for best effect anyway. "You're just going to ruin your picture."

A picture with the Maitland's was never ruined of course, even if they were just patterns of shadow and light, but she didn't bother telling them this yet again, just lifting her camera, and grinning through it. "Say… insanity!" She goaded them, making Adam shake his head, and Barbara giggle.

They said it anyway. Her mother perhaps, loudest of all. "Insanity!"

_Click_.

--

He didn't know what the hell he'd walked in on, everyone yelling, _Insanity!,_ followed by a blinding flash of light, but he took it to mean that Lydia was in a good mood. He didn't even care that the rest of them were still there, what could they do?

Beetlejuice just looked smug, fingers resting on the slender box in his pocket, watching as Lydia turned in the next moment to see him, always somehow knowing when he was there. He realized for the first time how much he loved that skill of hers.

She looked tired, a fact which he took some pride in actually, and smiled to see him. Something approaching relief fluttered across her eyes, but he ignored it, for now. Just as her next words, doing their best to be angry, didn't faze him in the least. "And where did you vanish off to?" She demanded, putting her hands on her hips in a clear feign of impatience.

He offered every tooth in apology, rocking back and forth on his toes like an eager schoolboy. "Business, babes. I told you." His heart was racing about a thousand beats per second, not that this was actually possible, and he rocked a little more impatiently. "Why, you miss me?" For now, he also ignored the dark looks he got from her parents. For some reason though, he swore Babs looked relieved…

"Miss you?" She retorted, before relenting with a grin, and lifting her camera. "Hell no. Now hold still while I get your picture. If you're going to disappear on me all the time, I'm going to need a way to remember what you look like!"

Beetlejuice gave her his best pose, his most charming smile, and reflected that to anyone but her, he'd probably still look like shit. Before she had a chance to prompt him, he added, guessing at what was next, "Insanity!" A click, a flash, and Lydia's grin, just for him.

"It somehow sounds more natural when he says it…" Adam Maitland noted to himself. But even he seemed less like he had a stick up his ass than usual, even smiling a little. What the hell?

_Ah, who gives a damn_? "Okay, now I did what you wanted," Beetlejuice offered with a smirk, "Now _you _gotta take it off." Lydia cast him a slightly wild glance, lifting her eyebrow, and otherwise the general mood in the kitchen grew somewhat more hostile. Oh yeah. He smirked, like he hadn't realized how that would sound. "That damn necklace, Lyds. I got a better present for you."

Lydia's eyebrow moved a little higher, followed by a gentle smile, as she tugged said necklace. "But I like it…" She murmured, just as if this could actually be true.

"It's a piece of shit, babes." He informed her, matter-of-factly. "I got you something better." With this, he drew the long box out of his pocket, not caring how impossible this looked, and flipped the lid open with a twitch of his thumb. The antique medallion shone like new, freshly polished, hanging on a brand new chain.

Lydia's eyes grew wide, and her breath caught in her throat. "Beetlejuice…" She whispered. He grinned, hell, he never thought he'd come to love hearing his name so much.

"Just my way of saying," He began casually, then paused, tilted his head, and gave her his most devilish grin, "Love ya, babes!"

He had no idea why, at his words, she suddenly started to cry.

--


	13. Something Close, An Epilogue

Disclaimer, if you please. I don't own Beetlejuice. Nor do I own Lydia, the Maitland's, Claire Brewster, Miss Shannon, or the phrase, 'We've come for your daughter, Chuck.' I just really like them all. In fact, I don't even really own the characters I myself made up, because they're still based off of ones Tim Burton already used in his movie. If maybe not so much anymore.

Therefore, please don't sue me. It really wouldn't be worth it… If I had the kind of money that would make it worth it, I'd just buy the rights to use the characters in this little story, and save us both the court time. You know I would if I could.

Therefore, just enjoy, and take comfort in the fact that I'm making zero profit on this.

--

--

"Come on, just one more picture!" Lydia's face was lit up like a new day, and despite Beetlejuice's grumbling, he loved seeing her like this. She held the camera up pleadingly, and gave her wrists a little twist, looking cute. Looking damn sexy, if he was to be honest. "I only have a few of you…"

"I'm not going anywhere, babes." He pointed out, lifting an eyebrow. This of course, was her cue to stick her lower lip out a little, in a fetching little pout. He didn't let her get away with it, snagging her around the waist, and biting said lower lip gently.

She giggled, and melted against him. "But I need something to photograph…" She murmured, burying her face against the roughness of his coat. "Something morbid and dark, and utterly otherworldly…" He made a small face at this, amused despite himself. "Where else am I going to find something like that, when the sun is shining, the birds are singing…" She made a face, as if all this beauty was lost on her. He was one of the few who knew full well that it was a lie.

Beetlejuice held his hands out in small surrender, flashing her his maddest grin. He knew she'd make it up to him later. She squealed, just a shaky little giggle, and immediately drew back to snap a picture. He tried not to let it blind him.

"You're just that damn sexy!" She added, a smug look to the twist of her lips, as she lowered her camera again. It felt good to have someone else say it for a change. Especially his Lyds.

He dropped his arms, swearing to himself that this was the last picture she'd talk him into, and hooked her with his elbow. "Now, babes," He drawled, as if he had nothing in the world to worry over, other than what she said next, "What's this you were telling me about…" A faint twitch of his eyebrow, "A job?"

Lydia's expression immediately grew serious, though something in her eyes glinted in an almost diabolical way. "Remember the house I told you father found?" Her hand, unconsciously, laid over his opposite one, and gave it a small, excited squeeze. "Not five blocks from the school… Spare room for when we want to visit…" He wanted to laugh aloud at this. _We._ Lydia didn't even seem to notice. "Well, the sellers are being real pricks about it. They're thinking of upping the price, because some other family…" She released him, and waved her hand carelessly. "You know the drill."

At the thought of getting the chance to give a good scare, for old time's sake, Beetlejuice was practically licking his lips. "And he thought he'd see if his new son-in-law could get him a better price?" It was all he could do not to laugh aloud. This Chuck was much better than the last one.

She nodded slowly, looking if anything, more serious. But now her eyes positively danced. He reflected that he probably wasn't that good of an influence on her. And loved it. "Well, if you have a bioexorcist in the family anyway…" She murmured, almost nonchalantly. "Just… Don't kill them." She added, almost as an afterthought.

Beetlejuice paused, looking down at her with a frown. "Hey, I don't tell you how to take pictures, babes…" He pointed out, trying to sound more annoyed than he was. "Don't tell me how to do my job either."

Giving him an exasperated smile, Lydia shook her head. "Yeah. Just what we want. Them coming back to haunt us." She shrugged, as if that was all she cared about that. "Anyway, _ghost with the most_… Surely you don't have to resort to brute force to make your point."

He chuckled, eyes gleaming with ideas. "I don't promise there won't be people jumping out of windows, babes… Totally beyond my control." He paused, then considered her again. "You're in a better mood than usual," He noted slowly, finally finding that strange, "Don't tell me you actually like going to school now?"

A mad little twist of her lips betrayed what she tried to hide, quickly ducking her head. "Well, with Claire's family moving out of town like that…" This ended in a sort of breathless laugh before she continued, "School's, getting better." She added, with a sly lilt to her voice, "Somehow, I've got the reputation of the school bad girl, now. Seems a few people are even scared of me."

At this, Beetlejuice almost ended on his ass, laughing. His Lyds, scary. "Yeah well," He settled for showing every tooth in deep amusement, "Can't imagine why they decided to up and move off like that…" Hell he couldn't. But that would be his little secret.

Lydia though, was giving him that look again, the one that made him feel like she was reading his mind. "You never are going to tell me what you really did to Claire, are you?" She asked him, a sort of resigned amusement to her tone.

Hell no. Though the look on the spoiled bitch's face as he dragged her through one level of the underworld after another, and across all the various dead that populated it, still left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. The bus station had just been for the cops. She was, as her family so politely demurred to their neighbors, going to receive the best help possible. And that was that.

_And all the king's horses, and all the king's men…_ He hummed to himself, delighting that even Lydia couldn't completely tame him. He could still raise a little hell now and then… But let her think she had him collared. It worked out best for both of them.

Still in his pleasant little reflections, he almost didn't see the man that had tried to take Lydia away, until they were almost next to him. Even Beetlejuice's smile failed him, at the look of unbridled hate in the man's eyes. He was a different person now, it couldn't be denied. Beetlejuice had pushed him just a little too far, and all the regret in the world couldn't change that now. Not that Beetlejuice ever regretted anything…

Garin watched as they passed, eyes colder than the third level of hell, a distinctly unbalanced glint to them now. "Watch yourself…" He murmured distinctly, as they passed, "'Cause I'm sure as hell watching you…"

Lydia was willing to hurry on, eager to leave the man with his challenge unmet, but Beetlejuice hadn't run from anything in centuries, and he wasn't starting now. His feet practically ground into the sidewalk as he turned, with a cold in his gaze that no hell had ever attained, and asked bluntly. "Problem, bub?"

The deputy, for a moment, faltered, coming face to face with all that raw energy, practically snapping around him now. Then his mouth tightened, and he found some speck of courage somewhere, because he continued challenging the ghost that could have ripped him in half, and followed it by sticking a telephone pole through his skull.

"You're dead," He said slowly, as if this much were common knowledge, "So I'm guessing I can't touch you." His eyes flicked to the side now though, and his tone dropped, just perceptibly, "Her though…"

There was of course, very little thought involved in what Beetlejuice did next, lifting the man in the air without so much as a twitch, and sending him backwards down the alley, through a dozen or so garbage cans. He watched as the man rose to his feet with an expression of utter contempt, before turning, and walking away, like it had been his idea.

Beetlejuice was boiling, and said softly, without even looking at her, "You stay the hell away from him, Lyds. I've seen men capable of killing…"

"I'm sure you have." She answered, her voice equally quiet. Something in it suggested that he probably still did, every time he looked in a mirror. He couldn't honestly say it wasn't true. "Just remember, he's that way because of what you did to him, Beej." A pause, as he frowned, wondering if she was still upset about that, before she finished simply, saying, "Next time, for god's sake, just trust me, okay?"

Trust her? Beetlejuice shook his head, remembering what he'd said about never trusting the living again. "Whatever, babes." He agreed softly. "But you wait. This one here's going to come to blood."

Lydia sighed, accepting his expertise on such things, and found somewhere else to look. They walked in silence after that, until she came to an abrupt stop in front of the local candy store. "Hey yeah!" Her face broke out in a wide grin, like any kid faced with the possibility of a treat. "I forgot, this place is practically next door to dad's new place! Hey," She released him, and cast him the briefest glance possible, "Wait here! I'm going to go get some lemon drops!"

Lemon drops? Was she serious? Beetlejuice made a face, wondering how she could go from positively diabolical, to utterly serious, to acting like a little kid, in the space of five breaths. And always managing to look so sexy, doing it… He shoved his hands in his pockets, reflecting on how she already referred to it as her dad's house. Hell, she was putting a lot of faith in him, wasn't he? Not that it was like he was going to let her down…

He watched through the enormous glass window as she gathered, not only lemon drops, but cherry, orange, grape, and something green. Girl had a thing for hard candy… Just watching it made his fingers itch for a cig. He put it off, for now. Truthfully, he was trying to cut back. You only lived twice, after all…

Bursting back out of the shop with a lunch sized brown bag half filled with candy, she seemed much more collected than she had a minute before, but oddly, seemed content with carrying on the conversation, just like they hadn't been interrupted. "I know he's going to be trouble," She agreed, as if this was some unspoken understanding, that he didn't even have to convince her of, "But…" She glanced at him, "You're with me all the time, Beej. What can he do?"

Well, the guy could do his best to get her alone… But Beetlejuice swore that this wasn't happening. "Nothing, babes." He assured her, a bit gruffly. "Just be careful, okay?"

She nodded, looking a bit as if the air had been let out of her balloon. For all her excitement moments before, she didn't reach for any candy yet. Instead she gazed at a point ahead of them, a small frown on her face.

"There it is!" She said suddenly, pointing. Beetlejuice looked, and immediately recognized the place from the idiot's model. "That's the one…" A pleased look was growing in her eye. "It's deadly-vu…" She whispered, clearly admiring it.

The word was one he hadn't heard from her before, and he gave her a sideways glance. It suited her though. _Deadly-vu_… And it suited the place as well. Beetlejuice swore he'd never seen a place look so positively haunted… At least not one that wasn't. It was in pretty good shape, other than a bit of warp to the outer wood, but resembled nothing so much as a leering face looming down on them from above.

Beetlejuice nodded approvingly. "Chuck's got good taste." He noted, matter-of-factly.

His wife gave him an odd little sideways glance. "You do realize my father's name is Edmond, right? Charles is my grandfather…?"

"Hmm." Beetlejuice pretended he'd forgotten. He loved when she got that exasperated look, full of tender patience. "He still alive, even?"

Again, that odd sideways look. "Why wouldn't he be?" She asked slowly, as if he might have something to do with it being otherwise, personally. When he just smirked, she gave him a little push. "Okay so… Do what you do. Have fun."

"Oh, I will, babes…" He drawled slowly, adjusting his sleeves, a habit he'd picked up centuries before. "You might wanna…" He gestured in a shooing manner with his fingertips. "Get a little distance." He said this, knowing full well she wouldn't. "There's going be a scene, and I know how you don't like those…"

"Hell no." She grinned matter-of-factly. For a minute, he thought she was agreeing, before she went on, saying, "I might not get to watch what happens inside, but I want to see them run!" She leaned back against the utility pole, and crossed her arms, looking positively delighted. "All I've heard about this so-called," And he lifted his eyebrows at this, "_Ghost with the most… I want to see you in action!"_

Beetlejuice gave her a little leer. "Babes, if that's what you want…" He started reaching for her, and she pushed him away, laughing. "Right!" He straightened the lapels of his suit, not put off, and in fact pleased as anything. "Let's do this."

"It's show-time!"

Lydia didn't say a word as he vanished from sight, like so many shadows under a hot sun. She loved that this job was being pulled on Halloween… Made it more believable somehow. And a hell of a lot more fun. She fished in her bag of candy, looking for the lemon drop she'd been craving a few minutes before. There, round, sugary, yellow…

She popped it in her mouth, and twisted the bag closed, lidding her eyes. If she could have seen them, she would have seen a mischievous glint to them, very much like her favorite poltergeist's. Even her smile, as the first screams began, was a smirk with the shadow of his own.

"Give them hell, Beej." She whispered.

_--_

--

--

Okay, my shortest one yet, but it's an epilogue, what do you expect? :) Seriously, I want to thank everyone... Without so much support, no way I would have gotten thirteen chapters done in like two weeks. I love every review, even though I'm usually too busy working on what's next to reply...

Geez, if only I got this much support for my original work... Ah well. We take what we can get. And heaven knows I loved writing this... Much more than most of my projects. But you gotta love Beetlejuice. This was a blast! Which of course brings me to the problem.

:( It's finished. Now what? ... :) Yeah, right. Heh, like I'm going to able to resist writing something else...


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